


Could this be out of line? (To say you're the only one breaking me down like this)

by Inky_Blackheart



Category: Fate/Grand Order, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: Arguing, Awkwardness, Background Relationships, Blushing, Comfort, Crush at First Sight, Crushes, Drinking & Talking, Emotional Constipation, Head Injury, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Injury Recovery, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Mutual Pining, Now featuring plot, Past Relationship(s), Relationship Advice, Royalty, Secret Crush, Self-Doubt, Self-Esteem Issues, Sharing a Room, Showers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-29
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:33:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21606859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inky_Blackheart/pseuds/Inky_Blackheart
Summary: Ozymandias is not used to something as human and petty as "crushes", but encountering Arash in Camelot and living around him at Chaldea is bringing up feelings the Pharoah isn't quite sure what to do with. How does one offer praise and adoration to another after a life of being worshipped as a god-king?Arash is no one special, really. He's just an archer doing his best, and he's been lucky enough to be contracted to a good master. Meeting the other servants has been great too, but one, in particular, confuses him. He recognizes the way Ozymandias looks at him, but it doesn't make any sense.A slow-burn story chronicling the developing relationship between Ozymandias and Arash.*ON TEMPORARY HIATUS*
Relationships: Arash | Archer/Ozymandias | Rider, Iskandar/Waver Velvet | Rider/Waver Velvet
Comments: 30
Kudos: 84





	1. Oh no, this couldn't be more unexpected

**Author's Note:**

> The fic's title (and chapter titles) were taken from "So Contagious" by Acceptance (https://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/acceptance/socontagious.html)--one of the best songs about crushes IMHO. You can listen to the band perform the song here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0ZgdYKOreUE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Re-written to add more plot (December 27th, 2019)

**One.**

Admiration was a new feeling for Ozymandias.

Being born innately divine would do that, he supposed, watching his new master and Arash talk on the other side of the cafeteria. From birth he was told of his majesty, his superiority, and his great destiny. Most others were simply beneath his notice. People had always been simply ants scurrying about, waiting for his mighty hand to build them better hills, to drop crumbs for them to live off, to pass absolute judgment. Perhaps that was why he admired his new companions so. They waited for no one. They took what they wanted, ignored his proclamations, and fought to protect what mattered to them. Master would have made an excellent prince, he notes, and Arash would have made an exceptional general. Pity that their talents were wasted saving a world that thanked them not.

Master clapped a hand on Arash’s shoulder as they both doubled over in laughter. Ozymandias didn’t miss the light in Arash’s eyes or his radiant smile. The archer looked up, saw Ozymandias looking, and blushed, turning back to Master and jabbing him in the ribs.

Interesting, Ozymandias thought, ignoring the matching blush on his own cheeks.

***

Arash had always known his place.

One would think the role of hero would be a great honour and would lead to a life filled with untold treasures, all the companionship one could ever ask for, and a comfortable life once the monsters were slain. But of course, that wasn’t reality. The life of a hero was one of sacrifice, one of putting your needs below others, of having to make the hard choice and going hungry and dying alone.

Arash was a hero. For all the pride that the title brought him, he still lacked much in the way of self-worth.

That is why the pharaoh Ozymandias confused him so. In Camelot, the king spoke of his reverence for the archer’s legend, and his respect was obvious in the way the great man interacted with him. Now they were at Chaldea together, and Ozymandias watched him. He spoke to him, sure, but mostly just stared. It wasn’t with rage or hatred. It was something else.

Something...warmer.

Why would the sun king want to bother with a lowly archer, just getting through life, doing the best they can? Arash found himself watching Ozymandias back. Perhaps the King was sick. Perhaps there was something on his face.

Arash had seen that look before, but on Ozymandias’s face, it just didn't make sense.

***

Da Vinci and Ritsuka stared at the screen in shock. Fou shook in Mash’s arms, the demi-servant holding him wobbling on her feet despite standing completely still. “This can’t be right,” Ritsuka asserted, leaning forward with his head in his hands. “This isn’t possible. We’re completely cut off from the rest of history, there’s no way...”

“It’s possible, just very, very unlikely.” Da Vinci sighed, leaning away from the screen, cleaning her glasses with the sleeve of her dress. “What we have to figure out is what we’re going to do about it, and how we’re going to tell the servants.” The scientist looked at Mash, who’d moved from wobbling to shaking. “Look what’s happening to Mash. She’s only a demi-servant and she’s barely able to stand.”

“We won’t be able to deal with any singularities until we’ve figured out how to reverse this, that’s for sure.” Ritsuka walked over to Mash and put his arm around her, steadying her. “If their bodies are becoming more like a regular human, even staying here will be a risk. We haven’t had to worry about passing along colds and flus.”

“I felt better earlier when I had some medicine,” Mash piped up, “so may we’ll be able to treat them with it too.”

Da Vinci nodded. “Yes. We’ll start stocking up.” Her eyes flicked back to the screen before them. “I never thought we’d have to deal with a curse of this magnitude, or enemies of this calibre. I wish I would have been able to plan for this.”

“No one faults you, Da Vinci.” Ritsuka tried to reassure the director, pulling Mash closer into the warmth of his embrace. “We anticipated the end of humanity. We never anticipated...this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been germinating this idea since completing the Camelot Singularity and the Temple of Time and seeing how blatantly in love Ozymandias is with Arash. I mean, the guy was going to just let Chaldea's master deal with the demon gods by themselves until they saw that Arash was there. He's got it bad.
> 
> My Tumblr: https://inkyblacc.tumblr.com/
> 
> Fic Soundtrack: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLRLIOS3zhRzL-mmhnhmrEuogXtncPoDMD


	2. And I can tell that I've been moving in so slow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ozymandias gets advice from his roommate, Iskandar, and Arash gets advice from Tawara Touta before literally running into the object of his admiration.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated December 29th, 2019: more plot added

**Two.**

Da Vinci stared at the intercom button, looking back and forth from the bright red switch to the staff. Mash flopped into Ritsuka’s arms, nodding her encouragement despite losing the ability to stand. The poor thing had never even experienced a case of the sniffles before. That strengthened the artist’s resolve. If dear, sweet Mash was so badly affected, there was no telling what it would do to the rest of the servants. On the eve of a potential hostile takeover, sickly heroes were the last thing they needed.

A question remained, however. The nature of the curse itself. There were only so many mages capable of putting such a spell on anything, and even fewer said mages who knew where or what Chaldea was. There was the potential that the curse had come from one of the servants or staff members, or that the demon god pillars had not truly been destroyed. Would sending out this announcement alert the caster and cause them to accelerate their plan? It was a risk that would need to be closely monitored.

“Attention, staff and servants of Chaldea,” Da Vinci said, hearing her voice echo through the hallway just outside. “Approximately 24 hours ago I became aware of an abnormality in Chaldea’s systems. An investigation by the staff revealed that the cause was a curse. We’ve been compromised.”

A quiet commotion could be heard outside. Clattering sounded from the kitchen and muffled cursing from the nearby common rooms. Da Vinci continued. “As far as we can tell, the main effect of the curse is to weaken servant bodies. We’ve had several reports of heroic spirits being unable to return to spirit form, and increased vulnerability to germs and other common ailments previously unheard of.”

Ritsuka gave Da Vinci a look, his eyes telling her that he had something to say. Da Vinci beckoned the young man to the intercom, moving so he could address his servants. Perhaps this would put everyone’s mind at ease. “Hi everyone!” Ritsuka chirped. “Don’t worry, the Chaldea staff are working really hard to figure this out, and I’ll do my best to provide the best manna I can. However, in the meantime, we will not be investigating any singularities or making any supply runs. Please, guys. Try to be careful, alright?”

Da Vinci nudged him out of the way. “What our esteemed master is saying is that staff are expected to report any abnormalities or discrepancies they notice while performing their duties and that servants are to exercise caution in their activities. We’ll get to the bottom of this soon, and we’ll keep everyone updated as we gain new information. If you have any questions, please ask a senior staff, myself, Mash or Ritsuka.” The intercom switched off. Da Vinci looked at the assembled staff, all watching her intently. She was a genius, and they expected her to have the answers. However, she was just as lost as any of them, and was beginning to fear for herself. “Let’s get back to the control room. I want to continue our investigation.”

The other staff nodded and dispersed, heading back to their respective stations. Only Mash and Ritsuka remained. The three shared a moment of silence, contemplating their next moves.

“Do you think that the servants can...die?” Mash asked. “From things like colds, or injuries? Can they still go back to the throne of heroes?”

“I hope we don’t have to find out,” Da Vinci said quietly, “or Chaldea will fall apart around us, and humanity will be defenceless.”

#

It would be truly dangerous for Arash to know the power he’d gained over him, Ozymandias thought, lying back on his silk sheets. Iskandar slumbered across from him, providing part of the reason sleep was not coming easily. Ozymandias hated the thought of sharing rooms at first, but his fellow pharaoh was good company and had multiple stashes of alcohol hidden throughout the room. He would enjoy the companionship while it lasted, as he suspected that Iskandar would soon be moving in with the newly summoned Lord El Melloi П. The way his friend’s eyes lit up when El Melloi, or Waver, as Iskandar called him, emerged from the Saint Quartz reminded Ozymandias faintly of the stars over his palace. Even such a serene image did not help him sleep tonight. The Greek conqueror’s heavy snoring provided a soundtrack to his racing thoughts.

Da Vinci’s earlier announcement weighed on his spirit. Chaldea was under a mysterious curse and they were unsure how it would affect the servants. Truthfully, Ozymandias wasn’t worried about himself. He was a descendant of the gods, and petty human curses were unlikely to affect him. He was concerned for the lower level servants. If he was being honest, he was worried about one in particular and anticipated great inconvenience if the others took ill. Even the most useless servants could make half-decent cannon fodder.

The Temple of Time replayed in his mind as he considered his fellow servants. He’d never intended to help Ritsuka. It was simply too much of a spectacle to miss, and dragging his dear friend Nitocris along for the ride would at least ensure he could watch the events unfolding without having to focus on driving his chariot. The spectacle of Ritsuka’s fight promised to be equal to the seven demon gods. The Chaldean master, if he was being truthful, didn’t need his help. The young man was a true fighter, surviving each singularity by sheer stubbornness. He simply wished to see how he would triumph.

Arash’s presence was unexpected, though his eagerness to help was not. His smile in the face of danger drew Ozymandias in like a fly to honeyed fruit. If the brave Persian could risk his life, despite his lack of power, then he could certainly contribute. He would not be outdone.

Truthfully, it was only to make Arash smile. The joy in his eyes when he realized he would fight alongside the pharaoh once more made the risk worthwhile. Gaining further admiration from his future master was a bonus.

Chaldea was exhausting. When Ritsuka had summoned him as a servant, Ozymandias was truthfully delighted. His pride was wounded at the idea of being a servant, but Ritsuka treated him with proper respect. As Arash did. Seeing the archer every day was starting to wear on him. He wanted to see that joy again, but lacked opportunities to create it. The other man walked through the Chaldea halls blissfully unaware of the pharaoh’s affection and respect, but how did one share that? How could he show Arash how much he admired him? How could he not see how Ozymandias felt about him?

If this curse progressed...how much time did he have to do so?

How....how did Ozymandias feel about him?

Ozymandias stared at his ceiling. Simple admiration would not keep him awake like this.

The snoring stopped.

Ozymandias glanced at his roommate. Iskandar was sitting up, staring back at him. His usually wild red hair was further mussed by sleep and he rubbed his drooping eyes with his thick fingers. The Greek yawned, stretching, still watching Ozymandias.

“Did I wake you, my friend?” The pharaoh asked.

Iskandar shook his head. “Fear not. My dreams turned rather sour and I willed myself awake.” He stood and bent over and knelt to retrieve something from under the bed. The pharaoh was reminded that his roommate slept in the nude, and his sun-kissed tan covered his entire body. The sight did little for him, but he did not look away. Glass clinked together under the bed. Iskandar stood with two full bottles of wine, tossing one to Ozymandias and uncorking the other with his teeth. “Would you like to drink with me?”

“Do I ever say no?” Ozymandias answered with a smirk, using his hands to uncork his bottle, sniffing the liquor before he drinks. It had a strong scent of grape, but also orange and honey, perhaps just a bit of cedar. He drank it. It was quite delicious.

“You’re thinking of something,” Iskandar said, finishing his previously opened bottle. “That’s why you’re still awake.”

“An astute observation.” Ozymandias rolled his eyes and sipped at his wine.

Iskandar kicked the bed, splashing wine from the goblet onto Ozymandias’s shirt and sheets. As he sputtered Iskandar shook his head. “The sarcasm is unnecessary,” he said, innocently playing with his beard, “I only wanted to see if you required someone to discuss it with.”

“So you can get back to sleep?” Ozymandias teased.

Iskandar shook his head. “So you can.”

The pharaoh sighed. He stared into what remains of his wine. “How do you know that you’re in love?” He asked after several minutes.

Iskandar crosses his legs into his “thinking position”, spilling his own wine on the bed. He takes no notice as he thinks. “You know, I’ve never really given it much thought. I suppose I just feel it and act on it. I’m a little surprised you haven’t.”

“Most others are beneath me.” Ozymandias stretched out on his bed, turning on his side to look at Iskandar. “I didn’t turn down an offer for short-term companionship from an attractive commoner, but I was far too busy being pharaoh to concern myself with such things. I married because I was expected to and had children because I was expected to.” He supposed he didn’t mind Nefertari, the mother of his firstborn. She was gentle and kind, innocent despite the horror of the plagues. But did he love her? That he couldn’t say.

“Ever miss the little brats?” Iskandar asked wistfully, likely thinking of his own progeny.

“With all my heart.” Ozymandias smiled, thinking of his small brood of royal children, all with his golden eyes and silky hair, all so confident and capable. His heart hurt, briefly, remembering his ill-fated firstborn, but he pressed it down. But he knew that even had one of them been born blind or lame, he would still have adored them. “But I know that is love. It is different than being _in love_.”

“Yes,” Iskandar agreed, “it is. I suppose...when I look at someone, and I feel like everything in the world is perfect and beautiful, then I know.”

“Is that how you feel when you look at Lord El-Melloi?”

“Waver? Of course!” Iskandar laughed. “I have been waiting for his summoning since I arrived here, after they told me I couldn’t leave Chaldea to find him because he was already on the throne of heroes. I yearned for it, day and night, thinking about what I would say when I saw him, how tightly I’d hold him...I suppose that’s another way you can tell that you’re in love. If when they’re gone all I think about is when they will return.”

Ozymandias stared up at the ceiling. “Is it normal to feel sick to your stomach?”

“Absolutely.” Iskandar snagged his roommate’s wine glass and emptied the contents. “You’ve, as Master and Mash would say, got it bad.”

“They would know.” He mumbled. He sat up. “What do I do, Iskandar? I’ve never felt like this before.”

“That should be obvious,” Iskandar said, confused. “You tell them.”

Ozymandias turned red from his ears to his feet. “I cannot do that.”

“Why not? How else are they supposed to know how you feel?”

“But...but how do you tell them?” He stammered. “Do I woo him? Be direct? Do I leave him love notes? Kiss him? Do I perform some sort of courtship dance?”

“It’s Arash.” Iskandar pointed out. “He’s a pretty straight-forward man. Just tell him that you love him and maybe give him a flower or something.”

“That’s...how did you know it was him?” Ozymandias narrowed his eyes.

“You’re not nearly as subtle as you think you are,” Iskandar smirked.

Ozymandias sighed. “How did you tell Lord El-Melloi that you loved him?”

“I pinned him to a wall during an argument and kissed him. And then we had sex.” Iskandar said, matter of factly, like that was a completely normal thing to do. “You know, sex isn’t a bad way to tell him either. You could just strip before him and go ‘my body is yours, you sexy archer’.” Iskandar waggled his eyebrows.

“I’m going back to bed,” the pharaoh groaned, lying down and pulling the sheets over his head, ignoring the booming laughter from his roommate.

#

Arash took a deep breath and nocked his arrow, drew the string back and fired at the target. His quiver was full and the artificial light of the training simulator gave him no outside interference. Still, he missed the target, his arrow embedding itself into the wall next to the target. His own body was the source of his problems, it seemed. His heartbeat was too fast, his skin too warm, his mind somewhere else. He wondered if he’d been cursed, like Da Vinci’s announcement earlier had discussed, but that was too simple an explanation. The target in front of him didn’t matter when all he could think about were golden eyes, sun-kissed skin and an imposing, confident presence.

 _If I hold this torch for much longer,_ Arash thought, _I’m going to go up in flames. He absentmindedly_ nocked another arrow.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Arash jumped, the arrows in his quiver knocking together. Tawara Touta watched him from the door, an easy smile on his face as he munched on a sandwich. “Sorry friend,” Arash laughed, “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Don’t blame you, seemed like you were thinking pretty hard.” Touta set his basket down and nocked his own arrow, standing beside Arash to practice his own archery. “Something on your mind? I’ve never seen you miss so many targets.”

Arash sighed. “I guess I’m distracted. That’s a good word for it.”

“An easy-going guy like you? That’s a surprise.” Touta fired, hitting the target dead on. “Is it this curse business? I gotta say, I’m pretty concerned myself. Sanzang has been trying to invoke the protection of the Buddha on the facility, but she’s really the worst monk so I’m not sure how that’s going to go.”

“No,” Arash said, shaking his head, “while I’m worried about all that, it’s not what’s on my mind right now.”

“Anything I can help with?”

“Thanks, but unless you can get rid of a crush, there isn’t much you can do.” Arash tried to nock an arrow but his clumsy fingers couldn’t get a grip. “There’s no way he feels the same. There’s no point troubling myself over it.”

“What makes you so sure?” Touta wiped a stray bit of mustard off his cheek.

Arash gave up on shooting, slinging his bow over his back. “I’m really not that special. I do my best, and Master appreciates it, but that can’t compare to a...”

“A pharaoh?” Touta said plainly, firing another arrow.

“Yeah, I mean...how did you know?” Arash stared at his companion in disbelief. He barely talked to Ozymandias, there was no way he could know.

Touta shrugged. “Honestly, I thought you were already together. You watch each other a lot, and you were really chummy back in Camelot.”

 _Watch...each other?_ Arash laughed nervously, blushing from head to toe. “Nah, we’re not dating. What would the sun king want with me, anyway? I’m...”

“Nothing special? Yeah, I’ve heard.” Touta rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. “Ozymandias seems to think different. Doesn’t that count for something?” Arash looked at the ground. Even if the pharaoh had some sort of...misplaced affection, he was still nothing next to his greatness. He’d tire of him soon enough. Touta sighed. “Look, maybe you should take a break. Go eat something, or read a book. Get your mind off it. With things how they are...you don't want to get yourself too stressed.”

Arash looked up. “You’re right, my friend. I just need to clear my head.” He walked to the door, glancing back over his shoulder. “Thanks Touta.”

“No problem.” The easy going archer waved. “Now go get a bite.”

Arash laughed, leaving the training room and colliding with another servant. The force knocked him back into the wall, bonking his head off the shining steel. His vision started to spot. That was...new. Were the walls always so hard? “Oof.” He rubbed the back of his head, slowly opening his eyes. His head was already starting to spin. “Sorry, didn’t see you there.” He blinked. He was looking into a solid black chest, and as his gaze wandered upward he found himself meeting piercing golden eyes. Arash gulped. _Here comes the monologue about how impossible it should be for me to not see his greatness or some other angry rant_ , he thought.

“Fear not, for I am unharmed and unperturbed. But you’ve hit your head. Are you alright?” Ozymandias asked, bending down to clasp Arash’s shoulder and look into his eyes. “Speak. Alleviate my concerns.”

Arash’s mouth went dry. No words were coming to his head, at least, none that he wanted to speak out loud; “your eyes are more beautiful than any jewel on Earth”, “I want to lick every inch of your golden skin”, and “kiss me”. “Uh...” he stammered.

“It is as I feared. You have been injured.” Ozymandias grabbed Arash’s arm gently and tugged him away from the wall. “Come, hero Arash. We are going to see Da Vinci.”

“That’s really not necessary!” Arash squeaked, backing away from the overwhelming presence of the pharaoh. “I’m fin!” _Damn! Of all the times to fumble a word..._

Without warning Ozymandias scooped Arash into his arms, carrying him in what he’d heard described as “bridal style”. Arash blushed and tried to squirm out, but his crush’s arms were too strong and his grip too tight. “It matters not what you think. You are injured, as a result of this curse, no doubt, and I would be remiss not to help you. Stop struggling. I do not wish to see you injure yourself further.”

His tone was so sincere that Arash slowly stilled. Even if he was fine, and he knew he was, Ozymandias’s chest was so warm and firm. It was like he radiated heat from his very core. Arash relaxed into the hold, allowing himself to go limp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the comments and kudos so far on this fic! I am glad people are enjoying it. 
> 
> UPDATE: One of the lines in this chapter, "If I hold this torch for much longer, Arash thought, I’m going to go up in flames", was partly borrowed from the summary of a transformers fanfic I read waaaaay back in the day. I tried to find it again but couldn't until I was going through my bookmarks. It comes from the summary of this fic: Rock and a Hard Place (https://archiveofourown.org/works/653970) If you ever read this, ladydragon76, that line is fantastic and you should be proud. 
> 
> Please let me know just how slow of a burn you'd like this to be. Things are moving on quite well but I'm not sure if I'm going too fast.
> 
> I came up with an over plot after I'd already written the first two chapters. Please forgive all the changes.
> 
> My Tumblr: https://inkyblacc.tumblr.com/
> 
> Fic Soundtrack: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLRLIOS3zhRzL-mmhnhmrEuogXtncPoDMD


	3. Don't let it throw you off too far

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arash finds himself injured, and Ozymandias surprises everyone by offering to share a room with the object of his affection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens.

**Three.**

The warmth of the archer against his chest was almost enough to distract the pharaoh from his important task. He could let his lust impact the man’s safety. His friend's limpness was most concerning. Arash hadn’t noticed, but the impact of his head against the gleaming Chaldea walls left a sizable dent. Even for a servant, a cursed one at that, it had to hurt. If they could get to Da Vinci, perhaps she could heal Arash without requiring Master to expend magical energy. Ritsuka would need all his manna in the coming days.

The halls cleared before him as he travelled, which he was grateful for, and he nodded his thanks to the ~~peasants~~ staff and servants of Chaldea. Their lack of interference was most appreciated.

Ozymandias did not bother to knock on the door to the infirmary. He chose instead to kick it down and announce his presence to the room. It seemed more crowded than usual, with both servants and staff taking up the beds. He looked around frantically, searching for anyone who could help.

“Where is Da Vinci? The Sun King requires her!" The staff asked each other where they last saw the aforementioned caster. Lord El Melloi looked perturbed in his corner bed, sucking in a lungful of nicotine and shifting to face the window. The elegant image was interrupted by the lord breaking into a deep rasping cough. It seemed even his formidable defence wasn't enough to completely protect against the curse. Arash winced at the sound and Ozymandias instinctually pet his soft hair to comfort him. The archer tensed in his arms and the pharaoh's confusion and guilt rose. He was partly responsible for the archer's sorry state and he could not seem to make it better. He ground his teeth in frustration.

“Waver, you can’t smoke in here. Put it out.” Da Vinci walked in, looking at Ozymandias with a perplexed expression. “Yes?”

“Arash requires immediate treatment.”

“I’m FIN!” the archer insisted, crossing his arms.

Da Vinci looked from the rider to the archer and sighed. “Put him on a spare bed, I’ll take a look. What exactly happened?”

“He was exiting the training room and bumped into me. He bounced off my body and hit the wall, leaving a large dent.”

“A dent? Damn, you're built like a tank." Da Vinci shone a light into Arash's ear. "How fast was he going? What were you doing there, anyway? You're not usually one for training."

“He was moving at a brisk pace, and my comings and goings are none of your concern.” He would not admit that he had been looking for Nitocris for her advice. The very idea that he needed advice was preposterous. What would all those who looked up to him think, of him needing advice from a less experienced ruler? “Da Vinci, is it...”

The caster nodded. “I think it might be. I know for a fact that Arash can take a lot of damage. This usually wouldn’t be enough to hurt him.” The archer smiled proudly at that. “But with this curse,” Da Vinci shone the light at Arash’s eyes, “‘usual’ isn’t something we can count on.”

“How bad is it?” Ozymandias tried unsuccessfully to keep the pleading from his voice.

Da Vinci fixed him with a pointed stare. "I will discuss that with my patient." The artist turned away from the pharaoh to the man lying on the bed before her. "Arash, you have a concussion," the archer opened his mouth to protest, "don't you argue with me, sir, or I'm changing the Netflix password and not telling you." Arash huffed rather cutely. "I'm putting you on best rest until you feel better and we can figure out how much you've been affected by the curse."

“I feel fine! I don’t need rest, there’s nothing to worry about!”

“You. Have. A. Head. Injury.” Da Vinci stressed, “You haven’t experienced any physical ailments in a thousand years, but those are serious. It’s not going to kill you, but you need to rest up and heal. It’s either this or we have to take some of Master’s magical energy to hasten your healing. He’d gladly give it, but...”

“I don't want to be more of a burden than I have to be," Arash said sadly. Ozymandias raised an eyebrow. Burden? What nonsense! Surely the man was only saying such ridiculous things because of his injury.

“Do you have a roommate? I’ll notify them that they need to keep an eye on you, and how to tell that it’s getting worse.”

Arash shook his head. “No, I don’t. They switched to a different room a few weeks back, and no one else has needed the bed.”

“Seems to be a lot of that happening. I’m not looking forward to rearranging things again after the messy breakups. That’s not ideal, but we can make it work. You can check in with us every hour...”

Ozymandias had an idea. Unlike most of his ideas, he wasn't convinced of its greatness, but he refused to let his pathetic nerves get in the way of helping Arash. "I will stay with him."

Arash’s mouth gaped. “Are you sure?” Da Vinci asked. “It’s not a big room...”

“I am partly to blame for this injury, and I want to make it right.” He turned to Arash. The shock and....anxiety in the man’s eyes seemed out of place and strange. What did he have to be anxious about? He’d never been shy before. Something told Ozymandias this could not be blamed on the injury. “I will have someone bring my things over immediately, and I will see to it that we are brought everything we shall need. Fret not. I will take care of you.”

Arash turned as red. It was endearing. “You don’t have to...”

“I have decided, and none shall sway me. Come! Let us go to your room. You can acquaint me with your routine.” He held out his hand to the archer. Somehow, he couldn’t make himself breathe while he waited for him to take it. Finally, Arash took the offered hand and allowed himself to be pulled up.

“I’m walking to my room.” He insisted.

The pharaoh rolled his eyes in mock indignation. Truthfully, he’d been hoping he could carry the man, as he wanted that delicious warmth back. It had been too long since he had a body against his own. “There is no need to use that tone, archer. I only wanted to help you.”

Arash quieted. "Thanks," he looked at the floor.

“You’re welcome.” Ozymandias offered his companion a smile, that was returned with radiance. He had to tear his eyes away and allow Arash to lead him through the halls to his room.

“We’re going to have to find someone to fix that dent,” Da Vinci grumbled as they left the infirmary. “And Ozymandias? Do NOT let him leave his room! Under any circumstances!”

Ozymandias raised his hand in acknowledgement as he walked away, the sounds of coughing, groaning and wincing a concerning afterthought as he followed Arash down the hall.

***

Arash did his best to hold himself together as he walked through the halls of Chaldea. The amber eyes boring into his back were eating away at his composure. His palms were sweaty under his archery gloves and everything was suddenly too warm. His footsteps gradually became more and more unsteady. His head pounded and his mouth was dry.

Of course, he was cursed. It was just his luck.

A warm hand reached out and touched his back. Arash nearly leapt three feet upwards but instead shivered as Ozymandias spread his hand over his back, his palm pressing into the junction of his shoulders. "Your gait is uneven," Ozymandias explained, "so I shall help you."

“Thank you,” Arash squeaked, “your highness.”

The pharaoh chuckled behind him. “I am sharing your quarters. You’ve earned me the right to call me by my name.”

“I don’t know if I’ve earned anything, but it’ll certainly make things easier,” Arash said in his usual self-deprecating tone. “So, do you snore?”

Ozymandias snorted. “Of course not. My nostrils are as perfect as the rest of me. Gods do not snore.”

“I’m pretty sure Ishtar does," Arash remembered the goddess falling asleep at one of the cafeteria tables, waiting for Emiya to finish cooking his special fried rice.

“She is a goddess in a human vessel. I am a descendant of Ra. We are NOT the same."

“Right, sorry! I shouldn’t have...”

“I’m only teasing, my friend.” Arash felt his cheeks burn deep red at the term ‘friend’. “But fret not if you snore. I’m surprised Iskandar does not wake the entire facility when he slumbers.”

“Silencing charms." Arash remembered an amusing tale Master told him about convincing Elizabeth to give him and Mash a 'private concert' to spare the rest of Chaldea from her terrible voice. Poor Mash's ears literally bled. "Master says all the rooms have them."

“All of them, you say?" The pharaoh asked curiously like he was pondering something. What, Arash was not sure. What did the rooms of the other servants matter to him?

“Yeah?”

“How interesting.” Ozymandias pushed Arash forward. “Let us hurry. I wish to meet Nitocris at your quarters. It would be rude to leave her in the hallway attempting to shoulder my possessions.”

 _H_ _ow much stuff does this guy intend to stuff into my tiny room?!_ Arash wondered, quickening his steps regardless.

#

The young queen was waiting for them in the hallway. Arash saw that various robes and pieces of clothing were draped across her thin arms. He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but he wasn/t sure he had enough space in his closet for all the things Nitocris was holding. He noticed a couple of bags swinging from her arms, a few pairs of shoes and some jewellery poking out.

“My King!” she greeted, trying to bow with her arms laden with fabric. Ozymandias held up his hand, stopping her.

“There is no need to bow, my friend.” Oh. So she’s his friend too, Arash thought with surprise, so he considers me on the same level as his fellow ruler? “Thank you for coming so quickly.”

“You're welcome!" The ears on her headdress perked right up, a giddy smile on her face. "I'm glad I was able to be useful to you! But..." She looked both ways down the hall, checking for prying eyes. She passed some of the clothes to Arash, who noted how soft they were, and pulled a bottle of amber coloured liquid from its depths. Arash's eyes widened. "Are you sure King Iskandar won't be upset that you took this?"

“He has several bottles, he won't miss this one. I've become accustomed to a libation or two before bed, and he has the most excellent taste." The pharaoh admired the bottle with a half-smile. "Arash, would you please open the door so we can relieve Nitocris?"

“Yeah, of course!” He passed the clothes back to Nitocris and pressed his palm to the door. It slowly slid open. He knew that the hinges needed oiling, but he always forgot until the next time he had to open it. The pharaohs stepped inside, Nitocris spotting the closet and beelining for it. He hoped it was clean. He tried to keep the place tidy, but with no one to share it with, certain tasks often got neglected. Ozymandias surveyed his temporary kingdom, nodding to himself. Nitocris summoned a few medjebs to help her hang and sort the clothes, pushing Arash into the corner of his own room. His new roommate sat on the spare bed (the one without rumpled sheets) and ran his hand over the bedspread.

“It is suitable. I thank you, dear Nitocris, for your assistance.”

“Of course!” She was able to bow properly, now that the clothes were out of her hands. If you need anything else from me, don’t hesitate!” She said sunnily, bouncing to the door. “It was nice to see you, Mr. Arash!”

Arash waved a little as she left. “Thank you majesty, it was nice to see you as well.” He hoped that was the right way to say goodbye to a pharaoh. Judging by Nitocris’s smile and blush, he’d figured it out.

The problem was, with Nitocris gone, he was alone with Ozymandias. The air conditioning was on, but the room seemed stifling hot. The pharaoh regarded him carefully, watching him shuffle out of the corner. “I’d give you a tour, but this is it!” He raised his arms, showing how small the space was next to his lanky frame. “It’s not much. It’s probably not what you’re used to...”

“I find it charming.” Ozymandias tucked a lock of his dark hair behind his pierced ear as he looked around the room, an action so cute and out of place for the normally intimidating man. “I do not get many chances to see how others live. I suppose one becomes used to what they are born into, and I was born into opulence and splendour. It is fascinating to see how others get by with so much less.” He turned to Arash with a mischievous smirk. “And I am most relieved to see that Master did not lie about giving myself and Iskandar one of the nicest rooms.”

Arash laughed, some of his tension relieving. It returned when he saw the look on the pharaoh’s face. He couldn’t place it. Maybe he was doing something out of place. Laugh when the king laughs and all. “Sorry you have to slum it here, then.”

“You’re here, so I am not ‘slumming it’. I am taking care of my friend, a great hero.” Ozymandias stretched out on his bed. “Now sit. Relax. You are on bed rest, and I will ensure that you stay in that bed until I deem it so.”

Arash hid his blushing face in his hands. This week was going to be one of the hardest things he’d ever done, up to and including fighting literal gods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ozymandias doesn't know what he's getting himself into, and I'm just sitting here eating popcorn letting it all happen. Hope you're all enjoying the slow burn. 
> 
> Once again, thank you for all the comments and kindness. Without going into detail, life's been hard lately and I really appreciate seeing positivity on something I created. 
> 
> My Tumblr: https://inkyblacc.tumblr.com/
> 
> Fic Soundtrack: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLRLIOS3zhRzL-mmhnhmrEuogXtncPoDMD


	4. Cause I'll be running right behind you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arash and Ozymandias get used to each other's routines, comfort each other, and have their first argument.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And she burns, and she burns.

**Four.**

Ozymandias was used to his subjects setting their day around his schedule. He was the morning and the evening star, and everything that happened in his palace happened because he willed it so. However, as a servant of Chaldea, he was rapidly getting used to having to answer to someone else about things like appropriate bedtimes, knocking before entering the bath, and being prepared to fight whenever Master demanded it. Those were small concessions. Changing his entire routine to match Arash's was not.

One of the things he admired about the archer was that he was a simple yet extraordinary man. His tastes were very plain, dramatically different from the opulence Ozymandias usually surrounded himself with. Arash woke up in the morning, if he decided to sleep, and made coffee. He explained to the pharaoh the first morning that he usually went and trained after his coffee, Then, after training, Arash would return to his room, shower, and then sit back and watch TV until the evening unless Master needed something. In the evening he’d train again, stop by the cafeteria for a bite of food and to see Emiya, play cards in the lounge with some friends, eat his snack, and then return to his room.

It was the modifications that were becoming the problem. Arash insisted on doing stretches to get around not being allowed out of his room to train. Stretches that were beginning to test the pharaoh's willpower. Denying his own brother and his angry, vengeful god was easy compared to watching Arash bend over or spread his legs. He'd follow along as best he could in the small space, but found himself too distracted to maintain correct form. He needed a shower afterwards too, just to ease his sore muscles. He longed to take Arash to the baths, but Da Vinci was very insistent that he was to stay put. So he just waited in the bathroom doorway, or on his bed across from the tiny space, trying not to imagine his crush's naked body under the stream of steaming water.

He wasn't sure how long he could hold out. It was only the third day, and he was already contemplating the possibility that he'd be insane by the time 'bed-rest' was over. The worst part was he knew Arash wasn't doing it on purpose. That would have made him feel better, but it was the small, silly gestures that had the pharaoh stumbling over his words or forgetting what he was going to say entirely. He hoped Arash finished his shower soon. The archer had been talking about a particular program on TV for the past two days and Ozymandias found himself looking forward to it.

The bathroom door creaked. Arash poked his head out of the bathroom, his thick dark brown locks dripping with water, falling in his eyes. “Hey, Ozymandias. Have you seen my towel? I can’t find it and you were in here last.”

“I’ll get you one.” The pharaoh stood and walked over to the linen closet with such speed that he wasn’t sure he even touched the ground. He grabbed the softest looking towel and walked back, handing it over to his friend without looking. “Here you are.”

“Thanks," Arash said, putting unnecessary inflection to disguise his annoyance. "I'll be done in two minutes," Ozymandias grunted in response, and grit his teeth. There was a distinct possibility that he was already insane, to even consider staying the rest of the time in this room. But a promise was a promise, and a pharaoh did not go back on their words. The morning and evening stars couldn't just decide not to shine, after all.

***

Ozymandias regarded the television with a certain level of distaste. He was enjoying the program, but the constant interruption to sell worthless products was starting to grate on his nerves. They’d seen the same advertisement for yogourt three times in the span of one commercial break. He’d never wanted yogourt less.

“You doing okay, your majesty? You’re looking a little...tense.”

“Do not call me your majesty,” Ozymandias snapped. “I am not your king.”

“Oh," Arash said. "Okay."

Ozymandias mentally slapped himself in the face. “That is...I see myself as something closer to your equal, not as your ruler. I am not your king because I feel no need to command you. Forgive me. I am simply taxed.”

“Is something wrong?” Arash asked innocently.

 _Yes. You are far too attractive for your own good and it irritates me to no end._ “Yes. These advertisements are repetitive and obnoxious. I wish to see the adventures of this detective, not washed-up celebrities peddling diet pills and dairy products.”

Arash burst into laughter. "I guess I'm just used to that since I watch TV every day. I wish I'd asked for a DVR when the staff were handing out entertainment systems." He smiled widely. "I was worried that you were angry with me. I'm glad that it's just ads, which everyone hates."

“What have you done that would have angered me?”

“I don't know. It's hard being near someone all day long, even if you hold them in high esteem, especially if you don't know them that well."

“True," he conceded, "but I would not hide my anger from you. I am not a person who acts deceptively. I tell you what I think because I am a descendant of the gods and therefore I am rarely wrong." He thought about the second part of the sentence. "What do you mean, not knowing them that well?"

“Well...” Arash rubbed the back of his neck and looked away. “It’s not that I don’t enjoy our interactions, but we’ve never really spent one-on-one time together. Master’s usually there, or Mash, or the other servants. I like you, but there’s still so much I don’t know.”

“Ah, yes.” The reverse was true as well, Ozymandias realized. He spent a great deal of time staring at Arash, and could probably name little facts about him, little things he did, but that wasn’t the same as knowing a person. “I am looking forward to getting to know you, Arash of Persia. That was part of the reason I offered to watch over you in these coming days.”

“Really?” Arash seemed almost hopeful. How odd.

“Yes.” _I watch you constantly and I feel like I’m missing the big picture. I can’t tell you anything I know about you because it is information I gained from staring at you whenever you entered the same room as myself._ “I admire you. Why wouldn’t I want to get to know you?”

“Because you're the Pharaoh and I'm a lowly commoner?"

“There is nothing lowly about you. To suggest so is to insult my judgement.”

“Right. Sorry.” Arash turned back to the TV. The show was almost over. Soon, the identity of the killer would be revealed. “Maybe we could...I’ve been missing playing cards, these past few days. Do you...would you play with me, later? I kind of want to learn about the great king who I’m sharing a closet with, and there’s no better way than cards,” he joked.

 _Anything you desire. A game, my riches, my body, name it and you shall have it._ “That sounds pleasing.”

“Good," Arash grinned. "After the show. I want to know who killed the nobleman and framed his sister."

“Agreed.” Ozymandias laced his hands behind his head and laid back on his bed. This was...nice. Just sitting, and talking, and watching TV with Arash. It felt comfortable.

It made him even more determined not to reveal his feelings. The last thing he needed was to damage their growing bond.

***

“Favourite food?" Arash asked, re-shuffling the thick deck of cards he kept in his desk drawer, sending cards flying everywhere.

“Quail. Or candied melon.” Ozymandias patiently waited for Arash to deal, steepling his hands in front of him. “Favourite colour?”

“Blue." Arash separated the thick deck into three piles, deciding against the giant one he'd been struggling with. "Morning or night."

“Either. I am...”

“The morning and the evening star,” Arash finished, giving Ozymandias an easy grin. “I’ve heard.”

“I don’t appreciate this newfound sass. I see no way forward but to humiliate you at crazy eights. It seems that I must re-assert my hard-won rule.”

“You think so? This is my favourite card game. I’m usually not even close to your league, but I have a fighting chance here.”

“We shall see, won't we?" Ozymandias teased. It was so natural to fall into this rhythm. The archer could take some good-natured teasing, and he gave just as good as he got. It was refreshing. He wouldn't just roll over and let his opponent win, and Ozymandias respected that. He'd been skeptical about a game as simple as 'crazy 8s' but Arash had proven how fun it could be. The rules were simple, and the game had a rhythm to it. His brother would have enjoyed it.

Yes, he would have.

Ozymandias went still. He would never be able to play this game with Moses. Or any other game. Even if he was on the throne of heroes, he wouldn't. Moses couldn't face him knowing that his destiny killed Ozymandias's firstborn son, and Ozymandias couldn't face him knowing that his own stubbornness was partly to blame. His breathing grew ragged, remembering the last time he saw Moses when he walked away from Egypt forever. He'd watched his brother leave, waiting for him to look back, to give him one last smile.

He didn’t.

Arash set the deck down. “Your high—Ozymandias. What’s wrong?”

“I apologize. I was simply remembering someone.” He tried to reassure Arash with a smile. The archer still regarded him with a concerned expression. “My brother,” he elaborated. “I was thinking about my brother.”

“Moses.”

“Yes.”

Arash was quiet for a few moments. He hesitantly reached out his hand and put it over top of Ozymandias's tightly clasped ones. Ozymandias felt a tear run down his cheek. He'd told himself he wouldn't cry, watching his brother leave the country he once loved. He wouldn't. He wouldn't give his brother's god the satisfaction. His heart remained hard after his army was destroyed. Until the day he died, he refused to cry for his brother. Why now? Because their legends were so intertwined? Because he was no longer king, with no subjects left to look up to him? Because there was a chance he'd see Moses again, and he was terrified?

“It's alright, Ramses," Arash said quietly. "It's alright."

Ozymandias’s head snapped up. “You’ve never called me that before.”

“I thought...I thought it was better than your other name. Did I make a mistake?”

“No,” Ozymandias shook his head, “it was the right time.” He wiped his tears away. “I never speak about my brother. I rarely think of him. But when I do, the hurt just comes back.”

“Maybe Master will summon him, and you can talk it out.”

“I hope he doesn’t.” Ozymandias shook his head. “I can’t face him. The last thing I remember is the back of his head as he left. I am the earthly incarnation of a god. I am a mighty ruler beyond reproach. Why...why couldn’t I make him turn around, and look at me one last time? We were raised together. He was my brother. Did that mean nothing to him, that he could just walk away?”

“Maybe he couldn’t turn around and look. Maybe seeing you would have made it too hard to leave.” Arash offered. “Maybe he was hurting just as much.”

“Perhaps.” Ozymandias smiled sadly at Arash. “Look at me. What a sight, the pharaoh wallowing in sorrow before you.”

“You trust me enough to let me see you like this,” Arash said, like he couldn’t believe it either. “It’s an honour.”

Ozymandias unclasped his hand and put one over top of Arash’s, squeezing it. “I want to continue our game. Allow me to collect myself.”

“Take the time you need.” Arash made no effort to move his hand.

#

It wasn’t sharing his space or altering his routine or even watching Ozymandias strip to get ready for bed that was starting to wear on Arash. He’d been in the army in his past. He was used to being around a lot of other men in tight quarters and changing his routine on a whim to suit the needs of his commanding officer. No, it was his lack of independence that was wearing on his nerves.

It was the little things that were starting to drive him crazy. He forgot to put cream in his coffee and Ozymandias was already on his feet getting it for him. His towel was missing and Ozymandias got up from his seated position to get him one. If he accidentally kicked the blankets off his feet Ozymandias would readjust all of his covers. It made him feel like a coddled child with an overprotective parent.

It was all very surprising. He was surprised that the pharaoh was lifting a finger to help him at all. It seemed out of character for a king. He remembered that someone asked Gilgamesh to pass a salt shaker in the cafeteria and the king of heroes started an all-out brawl. He’d expected that he’d have to do everything while Ozymandias sat and watched. The gusto with which the sun king helped him was the only reason he hadn’t told him to knock it off.

A knock at the door interrupted Arash’s reading, which hadn’t moved past a single paragraph in around an hour, and the archer stood to answer the door. His head was a little achy still and he wobbled, thankful that Ozymandias was still in the shower and he could right himself. He opened the door to a basket of laundry, carried by two tired-looking medjebs. He thanked the little...things and watched them skitter down the halls. He sighed. He’d never thought he’d be envious of Nitocris’s little friends, but he’d also never thought he could get a concussion as a servant. He lifted the basket, a little heavy with Ozymandias’s fancy, adorned clothes, and dumped the basket on his bed. He usually washed his sheets in the tub but the pharaoh insisted that they live like ‘noblemen as much as they could’, whatever that meant. He started sorting, gently laying Ozymandias’s clothes on his bed, tossing his own into a pile by his pillow. He neatly folded Ozymandias’s sheets and set them on the bed. He glanced over at the bathroom door. There was still steam leaking out from the door-frame. The man would be in there for a while yet. Arash smiled. He was going to do something nice for the king for once.

He carefully moved Ozymandias’s clothes and his pillow onto his bed, smoothing them so they laid flat. He grabbed the fitted sheet first, which he noted was infinitely softer than his own. _The perks of royalty,_ he thought, pulled the sheet taught over the corners. He flopped forward trying to reach the far corner, trapped beside the nightstand, breathing in the sweet scent of whatever the pharaoh decreed his clothes be washed with. It smelled like sandalwood and honey, but still carried a scent that was unique to the pharaoh. Once he had the pesky corner covered he stood, admiring his handiwork. He grabbed the top sheet and threw it over the bed like he’d seen in a hotel commercial. He decided to start at the foot of the bed, smoothing and evening out the sheet without tucking it in. The pharaoh ran naturally hot (in more than one way) and hated having his feet trapped when he slept. As he finished he heard the door open behind him. He froze, staring straight ahead.

“What are you doing?” His roommate asked.

“Making the beds," Arash answered.

“There's no need for that," Ozymandias moved around him to the head of the bed. Arash pointedly looked at the ground after a quick glance. The pharaoh looked a little ridiculous with a towel wrapped around his hair like one of his Hadjets, but his chest was bare and his bottom half was half-covered in a towel, a pair of leggings being the only thing underneath. "Be seated. I shall finish this."

“Nah, I’ll work on mine when you’re done.” Arash started putting his clothes into his small wardrobe. He wouldn’t touch the pharaoh’s clothes. He wanted to do something nice, but he also didn’t want to rip priceless Egyptian cotton.

“That won’t be necessary. I shall finish both.”

Arash stilled. “No.” He turned around slowly.

“What...what insolence is this? No? You’re injured. Sit and allow me to...”

“I am not a child.” Arash snapped, his voice going higher than he intended. The pharaoh’s eyes flashed with frustration, and Arash felt a little spike of fear. However, he would hold his ground. “I can take care of myself.”

“You...you are ungrateful!” Ozymandias shouted, dropping his comforter on the floor. He leapt over his bed, towering over Arash. “I have made every effort to help you in this time of need, and yet you have the nerve to tell me it is unneeded? You will cease this foolishness and do as I command!”

“Oh, so you’re commanding me now?” Arash crossed his arms. “I thought you saw me as close to your level. Seems like you weren’t being honest.”

Ozymandias’ jaw was tight and his hands were clenched—not quite fists, more like eagle talons, curved like claws and stiff. “I did not hear you protesting yesterday,” he ground out.

“I wanted to,” Arash retorted, “but I didn’t think you’d listen.”

The pharaoh raised his hands and Arash flinched, but the hands went to Ozymandias's head. He took a deep breath, smoothing his hair and adjusting his earrings. He was trying to calm himself down, Arash noted. "I am listening now." His tone of voice still hinted to aggravation. "Speak."

Arash sighed. “I just...I was trying to do something nice for you. To say thank you.”

“So you are grateful for my help.”

“I am.”

“Then I shall continue to give it.” Arash tried to speak again, but Ozymandias held up his hand, silencing him. “You should not feel obligated to repay me. I help you because I want to and for no other reason.” He gave Arash a small smile. “You are a very interesting man. Most would be shocked into stillness by such actions, but you sit here and argue against it.”

“Can you see any of the other kings here lifting a finger to help anyone else?” Arash scoffed.

“Arturia would. Perhaps Lord Karna. Iskandar, most definitely. Gilgamesh would lift his entire hand to back-hand you for your audacity.” Ozymandias laughed. “As you can see, we are most fortunate here to have such kindly tyrants in our midst.”

 _Kindly tyrant. That’s not a bad word for it. “_ I stand corrected.” Arash grinned, turning back to his clothes.

A pillow hit his upper back. He turned around. Ozymandias smirked at him, his arms crossed. “If you insist on being useful, you could at least finish with my bedding.”

Arash snagged the pillowcase from the top of the clothes pile. “Your wish is my command,” he said, only a little mockingly.

***

Arash looked over at his roommate, watching the onscreen antics of a cartoon mouse with a blissful expression on his face. He wondered how many other people had ever seen that expression, his soft smile, his warm eyes, the way he absentmindedly played with his earrings. He felt a swell of gratitude. If nothing else, this injury was allowing him to see things he wouldn’t have otherwise seen. Ever.

The pharaoh looked to him. “Yes?”

“Do you want snacks?” Arash blurted. “I have snacks.”

“I wouldn’t say no to some candy.”

Arash rummaged through his nightstand for a bag of British sweets Mordred had given him (to hide the fact that she’d stolen it from her father) and passed it to Ozymandias. The pharaoh carefully pondered which toffee he wanted, looking at each wrapper like a precious jewel. The worst part of sharing space with the pharaoh was these moments. Yes, seeing him undressed made his heart pound and his palms shake, but these small moments were intimate. Many people had probably seen Ozymandias nude. Only a few had seen him grin as he examined toffees and watched Disney cartoons, or how messy his hair was in the morning, or the noises he made when he was enjoying a cup of coffee. It made him want to stay sick forever so he could always have these small things and not share them with anyone else. “Do you like the coffee kind or the chocolate kind better?”

“Huh?”

Ozymandias held up two candies. "The coffee filled kind or the chocolate-filled kind. Which do you prefer?"

“I'll never say no to chocolate.”

“Then chocolate it is.” Ozymandias unwrapped the toffee and popped it into his mouth, making a noise of pleasure as it hit his tongue. “Exquisite.”

 _You’re exquisite._ “You’re welcome.” Arash refocused on the TV.

He could feel Ozymandias watch him. He felt something touch his leg. He looked down and grabbed a wrapped toffee. The pharaoh looked at him expectantly. “Do you not want one?”

Arash took it, staring at the confection in his hands. “No, I do. Thanks.”

“You’re most welcome. Sweets are best enjoyed with a friend, after all.” Ozymandias held out the bag to his companion. “You better take a few before I empty the bag myself.”

“Of course.” Arash grabbed a handful and laid it on the bed beside him, listening to Ozymandias expertly unwrap more candy. He’d had the bag of sweets for a while now, stealing the odd treat every other day, but they’d never tasted as good as they did now.

It made the smothering worth it. Almost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally responded to everyone's comments, but I have to say it again here: thank you all for the kindness and comments. I really appreciate them. 
> 
> So one of my favourite movies ever is Prince of Egypt. I saw a really nice image of the best song from the movie (The Plagues, obviously) with Ramses and Moses from Fate GO and it was EVERYTHING. The scene where Ozy talks about his brother just kind of happened, but I'm really proud of it. It was fun to explore how the "bad guy" felt about everything that went down. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter. Much love. 
> 
> My Tumblr: https://inkyblacc.tumblr.com/
> 
> Fic Soundtrack: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLRLIOS3zhRzL-mmhnhmrEuogXtncPoDMD


	5. You're the only one I would take a shot on

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens, and Arash attempts to sneak out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As this chapter was uploaded on Valentine's day, I have this to say: Happy Valentines day, ya janky whowores. Enjoy the update.

**Five.**

“Your Highness?” Da Vinci’s hologram flickered to life in the corner of the room. Ozymandias stood and approached the phantom facsimile of the woman, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. The room was still dark, the blue glow of the hologram providing the only light in the room. “I’m sorry to disturb you. I just wanted to check on our patient.”

Ozymandias glanced over at his roommate. Arash was snoring gently, his limbs sprawled and his arms and legs hanging over the side of the bed. His mouth was half-open, just the slightest hint of tongue poking out. It was quite cute. His breathing, thankfully, was still normal. "He's healing. He sleeps a lot, and his appetite is good."

“That’s good to hear. We’ve had a few...incidents in the infirmary. Has he been bleeding at all? Slurring his speech?”

“He has a few residual concussion symptoms. He complains of a headache from time to time." Ozymandias wanted to stroke the soft brown hair poking out from under the sheets, but he restrained himself. He wasn't sure how he'd explain himself should Arash wake.

“That’s good. I’m relieved.”

“Are you any closer to discovering the culprit behind this curse?” Ozymandias asked.

“No,” Da Vinci admitted. “We suspect one of the former chief staff, but it could easily be a servant. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that we have summoned some of history’s most petty people.”

“Ourselves included,” Ozymandias said with a smirk. Da Vinci laughed.

“You’re not alone in being confined to quarters. So far we have at least 3/4 of the servants confined to their rooms. We keep seeing injuries and it’s become a bit of a burden on the staff to keep up with it.”

“Is Iskandar...?”

“He is in Lord El Melloi's quarters, caring for him. El Melloi insists that he remembers human colds and he doesn't need anyone, but his pneumonia begs to differ. Iskandar hasn't left his side. He seems determined to test the limits of our soundproofing spells." Da Vinci rolled her eyes. "So you can be assured that he's healthy."

“That sounds like him.”

“The facility has come to a standstill. It gives me enough time to check in with everyone, but it’s a little concerning. I don’t know why I’m telling you all of this.”

“I would have asked for the information, and you would have given it to me. This simply saves us both time.” Ozymandias crossed his arms. “This concerns me. Is Master alright?”

“Ritsuka is bored. Mash has made a decent recovery, so he no longer has her sickness to occupy his time I think he’s looking forward to this being over. We’ve reduced the burden on his manna circuits and he’s been helping me check in on our servants. Expect a visit from him soon.”

“Noted.”

“How are you feeling, though?” Da Vinci asked. “Are you feeling any tiredness, any exhaustion?” Ozymandias shook his head. “Any mental health issues? Cabin fever?”

Again, the pharaoh shook his head. “I suppose I’m experiencing a bit of boredom, and perhaps anxiety for my friend, but not enough to be concerned.”

Da Vinci snickered at “friend”. “If you’re sure,” she said, looking at him over her glasses. He remained calm, passive, showing no outward emotion. “Then I’ll let you go. Thank you for your time, Your Excellency.”

“You are welcome.” The caster’s hologram vanished, removing the glow from the room, leaving the pharaoh in the dark.

Ozymandias walked back to his bed, his sheets soft against his skin. Arash grunted in the bed across, scooting further up his pillow. His hair was becoming a mess and it would have to be brushed out in the morning. The pharaoh had no doubt that soon Arash would be well, and he both dreaded and looked forward to the day he could return to his own (presumably empty now) room. He would have to purposefully seek out contact with the archer, and he was unsure if he would be able to bring himself to do that. He wanted to stay in here with Arash forever, separate from everyone else in their little cocoon. That was dangerous. The man wasn't his possession. He couldn't seal him in a vault like a certain Babylonian king would, nor could he keep him kneeling at his feet like on of his harem. No, Arash deserved freedom. As soon as he was well, the decision to associate with the Egyptian King would have to be his own.

Ozymandias pulled his covers over his head, deciding at the last minute to turn away from the wall and fall asleep watching his crush sleep.

***

Arash wasn’t an eavesdropper. He preferred to get his information from the source and didn’t put much stock in rumours. However, it was very hard not to eavesdrop when Ozymandias was having a very loud conversation in his room. He’d woken up, heard a brief exchange and fallen back asleep, half convinced that Da Vinci explaining the state of Chaldea to Ozymandias was a dream. When he’d gotten up for the day he’d remembered what the caster said. The other servants were sick. His friends were sick. Everyone was sick. He was starting to feel better, and he was filled with guilt. He was getting better, and all of them were experiencing the same pain. He had to go see for himself. He had to help them, just as Ozymandias was helping him.

Sneaking out without the pharaoh noticing would be difficult. The man seemed to be completely focused on him, especially since they'd gone through all of Arash's movie collection. He'd wait until the pharaoh fell asleep, maybe offer to pour him his evening libation and overfill his goblet. He'd have to be quiet and stealthy, which wasn't exactly his specialty. If he timed his exit just right he'd be in and out before Ozymandias even woke up.

The day passed as normal, if not a little awkwardly. Arash tried to act naturally, but the closer it got to night the more frantic he found himself becoming. The pharaoh asked him many times if he was feeling well, and Arash had no answer that convinced the man. Eventually, he said he wasn't feeling well and he just wanted to go to sleep. He waited patiently for Ozymandias to finish watching TV and crawl into bed himself. The pharaoh's looks of concern broke Arash's heart. If he were caught, his actions would hurt his crush. But what else could he do?

He waited and listened for the snorting (not snoring, the pharaoh was quick to correct) that signalled Ozymandias's visit to the realm of dreams. He'd gone to sleep in his clothes, so that was taken care of. Arash got off the bed as quietly as he could, the old mattress groaning as he stood. The pharaoh remained asleep. Arash tiptoed to the closet and retrieved his quiver. The arrows knocking together were impossibly loud in the darkroom, the only other sound being the breathing of his roommate. He knew, rationally, that he didn't need his weapons, but he felt better having them. Arash just needed his boots, and he could leave without incident. Maybe.

He watched Ozymandias as he snuck through the room, walking as softly as possible. The pharaoh looked relaxed in his sleep, his perfect chest rising and falling, his dusky nipples hard in the cold night air. Somehow, no matter how much he moved in his sleep, his hair stayed perfectly in place. The only imperfection in the king was the little line of drool coming from one corner of his lips. Arash almost lost his nerve and stayed, but then he remembered how much pain he'd been in in the moments after hitting his head, how confused he'd been. He couldn't let his friends go through that alone.

Arash tied his boots shut. One last task, one last hurdle. The door. It always made so much noise as it opened and closed, and Ozymandias’s bed was close to the door. He put his hand over the pad. It beeped. It had gone to sleep, having not been used for days. The little machine whirred and beeped and Arash wanted to scream. He was so close.

Something moved behind him. Arash told himself it was just his imagination.

“What are you doing?" Ozymandias demanded, marching over to the door, slamming his open palm against the metal. Arash jumped a little but refused to lose his resolve, even as the pharaoh's beautiful golden eyes stared into his own.

“I need to help my friends," Arash tried to explain, but the words sounded weak to his ears. The pharaoh raised an eyebrow and glared down at him. "Some of them don't have anyone to help them, and they're sick. I'm feeling better, and if there's a chance that they need me...I have to try."

“Da Vinci ordered...”

“I heard you two talking last night. She said that the whole facility is sick. She doesn’t have time to enforce her orders.”

“No, but I do.” Ozymandias moved his hand over the keypad, blocking his exit more fully. “And you are not leaving this room.”

“I want to help my friends as you've helped me. What's so wrong with that?" Arash asked pointedly, trying to plead with his eyes. Ozymandias looked away, his eyes narrowing. "I've been stuck in this room for almost two weeks, Ozymandias! A hero has to go where they're needed, and where I'm needed is on the other side of this door!"

“You need to fully recover!” Ozymandias snapped. “You can’t do that if you’re running through the halls of Chaldea with...what? You don’t know any healing spells, you have no medical training. What can you possibly do?”

“You don't either," Arash pointed out, huffing at the hypocrisy. "And you've helped me. I can do the same for them unless you think me that incompetent."

“I will not have this argument again. You will stay in this room, and that is final.”

“No," Arash said, standing at his full height, which put him at equal footing with Ozymandias. "I'm leaving. And there's nothing you can do to stop me."

He half expected Ozymandias to backhand him, or shout, or get angry. Instead, he saw the pharaoh's eyes water without tears falling and saw his expression soften only to fall. The pharaoh looked downright sad, and Arash felt guilt sting his heart. His sure footing faltered. "Are you...are you so desperate to leave me too?"

“What?” Arash asked, confused.

“You...it's more important to you, isn't it? Following this path. This hero's path." Ozymandias seemed to look right through him, and he wasn't sure if the rider was looking at him. "You'd leave, like nothing we share matters. Just like my brother."

Realization dawned. Arash sighed, his shoulders flopping. He dropped his quiver on the floor. “Ramses....”

“Don't call me that," Ozymandias hissed, "don't call me that if you're going to leave." Arash lifted his hand to grab the pharaoh's shoulder and the other man slapped it away, his teeth bared. "I've given you everything I thought you'd accept. My time, my companionship, my help, and it still wasn't enough. You're still going to leave like it meant nothing to you." His friend, his strong support, was crumbling in front of him. "What if you collapse in the hallway? What if something happens to you, out there, where I can't protect you? You'll be gone. Just like that." The pharaoh's lips started to quiver. "Please, Arash. You can't go. Your friends may not need you after all, but I need you." He said quietly like he was finally admitting it to himself.

“Ramses...” Arash started. His heart hurt. His head hurt. He wanted to hold his pharaoh, kiss his lips, tell him that everything would be fine. But he settled for trying to reach for him again, this time making contact with the firm flesh of Ozymandias’s bicep.

“What? What could you possibly say...”

“I didn’t know you felt this way.”

“I would do what I've done for you for no one else," Ozymandias said, his hands balled into fists at his side. "You are my friend. I care for you, more than you can possibly know. I have so few that I consider worthy to be my companion and fewer that I feel I need." He looked up at Arash. Arash's eyes calmly met his. "If anything were to happen to you, I would be devastated."

“I won’t leave.”

Ozymandias’s face split in a dazzling smile. “Truly?”

“I didn’t know you felt so strongly about me,” Arash admitted. “I knew you thought of me as your friend, but not like that.”

“You are so precious to me," Ozymandias said, lifting his hand from the keypad. Arash had a brief moment of deciding whether or not he'd push past the pharaoh and leave, but he decided against it when he saw the joy in his crush's face. "Please know that."

“I do,” Arash said, “I sure do now.” He picked up his quiver and walked to the closet, stashing the cache of arrows away. He sat on his bed, Ozymandias sitting across from him. One of his robes was draped around the pharaoh like a child’s blanket. It was painfully cute. His knees knocked against Ozymandias’s. “I care about you too, Ramses. You’re probably my best friend here. If it were you sick, no one could stop me from breaking down the door to get to you.”

“I should be fortunate, then, that your best friends are not on the other side of this door.” Ozymandias offered a small smile. “I am confident that they will be alright. We have expert healers and the greatest geniuses in history gathered here. They have nothing to fear.”

Arash let out a deep breath. "I know. Rationally, I know that. But I still want to see them, you know? Some of them don't have anyone."

“Yes, but you seem to be friends with everyone, so it is only natural that some have less support. However...I’m sure Sanzang would care for Touta, and vice versa. Siegfried has survived worse than the sniffles. The Hassans are probably mocking the rest of the servants for being felled so easily. Master and Mash will come to see us soon, so one could assume that Mash is doing well. Emiya...”

“What?” Arash leaned forward.

“Pharaohs do not repeat rumours, which is what I told Nitocris when she said that the small army of Cu Cuhlain's has been circling his room for days. He has two lancers, a caster, and that berserker to tend to him. I cannot say I envy him. I don't imagine his room could hold all those people. I have one of the best rooms in the facility, and I don't think mine could either."

Arash laughed a little. “Well, glad to know he has some friends to look after him.”

“I believe the older lancer is interested in being more than that.”

“I thought...”

“I am repeating an observation,” Ozymandias said, crossing his arms, “not gossip. Do keep up.”

Arash grinned. “Okay, okay. I guess I feel a little better about staying in here.” _Of course,_ he thought, looking at the man before him, _there are other ways to make me feel better_.

“I am glad, my dearest friend.” Ozymandias cleared his throat and looked away. “Why don’t you lie back on your bed? I’ll make us some snacks and we can enjoy a pleasant evening in.”

Arash, still tired, leaned back into the pillows. He was feeling better already. Soon he could go to his friends on his own after he no longer had his very attractive roommate. He might as well enjoy these moments together before they had to re-enter reality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you forgive the briefness of this chapter, but I'm moving to a weekly update schedule so you won't have to wait long to see the next chapter. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter. Much love. Once again, thank you all for your comments and kudos. It means more than you could ever know. :)
> 
> My Tumblr: https://inkyblacc.tumblr.com/
> 
> Fic Soundtrack: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLRLIOS3zhRzL-mmhnhmrEuogXtncPoDMD or on Spotify at https://open.spotify.com/playlist/13r76VANCa2WCryboatiqc?si=fGiR0EPhTd6CtOfi1Adtdw


	6. To say you're the only one breaking me down like this

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ritsuka and Mash stop by for a visit and attempt to play matchmaker. Ozymandias loses patience with Arash's self-deprecating tendencies and finally gives in to his pent-up sexual frustration.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The slow burn finally ignites.

**Six.**

Ozymandias had underestimated his willpower. Severely. This was another feeling he was not used to, and he was not enjoying these discoveries. Nor was he enjoying this test of his propriety.

It had been a week and the pharaoh's patience was almost at its end. Arash did not like to wear much clothing in his suite. This was fine. He did not either. But what he hadn't expected was the other man changing his clothes so often, giving him so many glimpses of tanned skin and rippling muscles. It was mostly when he was waking from rest and slipping off his bedclothes to put on his regular clothes. He would not change in front of the pharaoh when fully awake and aware, but when he was still dazed from slumber it seemed he forgot his company and stripped without care. The man had an appealing mole on his left hip that always drew Ozymandias's eyes, and he'd gotten many an eyeful of the archer's pert backside when he bent to pick up his discarded clothing. Sometimes he'd sway, still dizzy, and Ozymandias would sprint across the small room to catch him before he hit the floor. The innocent touches were somehow electrifying. There was only so much a man could take. Hell, there was only so much a god could take.

It was not only the view of his crush's superb body that was testing him. It was also the little things. That was what surprised the Pharoah the most. He enjoyed the moments after Arash dressed when the archer would stretch his arms and ask if the pharaoh needed anything or if he slept well. Such small gestures of caring, no fanfare, no groveling. Of course, he didn't sleep while he watched over his charge. Arash had an endearing laugh and would giggle and chuckle and outright guffaw at the books he read or the movies they watched together. Netflix had gone down after what could only be termed "the Gilgamesh incident", but luckily Arash had a healthy collection of DVDs in his room. He got bored, the archer explained, at night. He fiddled with anything within reach. It was a relief to see that the happy persona the archer showed to the rest of Chaldea was the same behind closed doors.

The man's self-deprecating tendencies concerned him. Arash rarely had a nice thing to say about himself, which seemed ludicrous to Ozymandias. He talked about all his achievements as if they were things an average ordinary person would do, and they certainly were not. He referred to his poor looks and compared himself negatively to almost everyone, including that irritating rogue Blackbeard. Ozymandias was filled with a bizarre cocktail of anger and lust and it was taking its toll. He wanted to pin his charge to the bed, bury himself balls deep, and mount the man until he believed in himself. It was most unbecoming.

So the pharaoh sat awake at night, staring at the ceiling, trying to discern a way to rid himself of the tension plaguing him. He wanted to savor the booze from his room (because Iskandar would most definitely notice if he had Nitocris 'acquire' more) and thus that pastime was lost to him. He didn't want to leave Arash alone, so training was out of the question. Perhaps he'd have to lower himself to watch late-night television. Ozymandias carefully grabbed the remote from beside Arash's sleeping head and turned on the device, immediately turning the volume down to just above the minimum. Perhaps he'd watch the cooking channel. It seemed the least insipid and annoying.

A few hours later, he had learned four ways to cook turkey breast but was still tense, as Arash made thoroughly adorable noises in his sleep. Maybe the next program would be better.

***

A knock jolted Ozymandias from his sleep, knocking the television remote to the floor. Arash laughed at him in the corner, pouring coffee into two mugs. “Looks like you fell asleep in front of the cooking channel!” the archer said merrily, bringing both mugs over, handing one to Ozymandias. “Did you dream of food?”

“I dreamt of nothing. Are you not going to answer the door?”

“Yeah, I just wanted to finish making your coffee first." Arash set his mug on the nightstand and went to the door, stepping around the large collection of shoes spilling out from the closet. Ozymandias looked at his mug. The gesture was so...kind, without expecting his favor, or anything in return. It appeared that the archer just genuinely liked him. How completely and utterly terrifying.

“Oh, Master!” Ozymandias turned to the door. Master and Mash stood outside, both looking slightly groggy but still happy. He didn’t miss the way their hands were clasped together. “What a surprise!”

“I just wanted to stop by and check on you and see how you were doing. Looks like you’re doing okay!” Ritsuka peered in and spotted Ozymandias. “Good morning, your highness! How are you today?”

“I am well, and yourself?”

Ritsuka’s eyes flickered to Mash. “Just peachy, thanks. As well as anyone can be considered these days.”

“Yes, given all that has happened.” Ozymandias shook his head. “How is the facility?”

“We’ve narrowed down the suspects, and our wards seem to be holding, so though things aren’t great, they’re not getting worse.”

“I am relieved to hear that," Ozymandias said, smiling at Arash. "I hope to see my dear friend well very soon." Ritsuka's curious eyes looked back and forth from the two of them, making Ozymandias slightly uncomfortable.

Mash cleared her throat. “Anyway, do you two need anything? You two are one of our last stops. We’re looking for a little rest and I’d be more than happy to help out.”

“I can’t think of anything. Ozymandias?”

The pharaoh shrugged. _A spell to quell this lust, perhaps_. “I suppose not. Some new movies, perhaps. I am weary of the current selection.”

“Why don’t you and Master go get some together?” Mash suggested. “I can stay and keep an eye on Arash while you’re gone.”

“That’s not a bad idea. It might do you some good to get out of the room, see the facility for yourself.” Ritsuka nodded in agreement.

“Then I shall join you in selecting new films.” Ozymandias stood up and stretched. “I’ll return shortly.”

“Don’t worry, your majesty. Arash won’t be going anywhere.” Mash smiled knowingly.

Ozymandias wasn’t sure if he liked that, but he nodded at the demi-servant and followed his master from the room.

The pharaoh felt Ritsuka's eyes on him while they walked, the young mage vibrating like he was a tea kettle waiting to boil. "Do you have something to say, Master?"

“Are you and Arash together now? Finally?” the young man blurted, drawing attention from some of the staff walking by. Ozymandias noticed how tired the staff looked, how weary they seemed. It was disconcerting. He almost forgot the question.

“What do you mean, finally? And no, we are not.” Ozymandias growled.

“Oh,” Ritsuka said, “I’m sorry. It’s just, I can see how much you like each other, so when I heard you were staying with Arash while he was sick...”

The pharaoh sighed. “Your assertions are correct. I do desire a romantic relationship with Arash.”

“But?”

Master always had a way of cutting to the heart of the matter. His straight-forwardness was usually welcome, but the rider felt like he was being put on the spot. “But I have no idea what to do with these feelings. I’ve no idea how to begin a relationship, or how to communicate my feelings.”

“Hmm.” Ritsuka rubbed his chin as he keyed in the access code to the media vault. “Why don’t you tell him that you want a relationship with him? I think he’d figure out how you feel from that.”

“And how does one have such a thing? In life, I had many wives and even more numerous brief trysts. I...master, I am out of my depth." Ozymandias admitted, mindlessly selecting movies.

“I know how you feel. I don't know much about marriage and 'trysts', but I've never been in a relationship before. With Mash...I have no idea what I'm doing. I'm worried I'm going to mess up and hurt her." Ritsuka looked at one movie, pondered it, and put it back.

“How do you deal with that?” The pharaoh asked. “And I think we’ve enough films.”

“I would have to agree." Ritsuka opened the door for his servant and let him walk through. "In response to your question...I guess I communicate with her. I set boundaries. She knows that I'm not always sure what to do and she doesn't care. That's because we talk to each other about it."

“I do not know if I can be that vulnerable," Ozymandias said quietly.

“I think you're going to have to learn to be if you want to make it work." Ritsuka patted his back. How insolent, but how sweet. "If anyone can, you can."

#

Mash sat opposite Arash on Ozymandias’s bed. She smiled gently at the archer and pushed her glasses up. “I didn’t want to ask while senpai and the sun king were here, but...do you need any contraceptives or lubrication?”

“What?!” Arash sputtered. “What would I need that for?”

“For...oh dear, I did it again.” Mash sighed. “I misread the situation. I’m trying to learn from senpai but I’m not very good at this type of interaction yet.”

“No, no, it's..." Arash rubbed the back of his neck. "I know how you could see it that way because according to Touta I'm about a subtle as a kick to the head, but we're not together like that." He looked at the cooling mug of coffee on the table. He wanted to be, but it wouldn't happen. Not with him.

“Oh. I’m surprised, admittedly.” Mash said. “I know how much Ozymandias admires you. He admires you like I admire senpai, and I know that the feeling is mutual. I thought you’d be together by now."

“It took you this long to get with Master,” Arash snapped, immediately regretting his words. “I’m sorry, I know you two were busy with singularities, I didn’t mean it...”

Mash held up her hand. “It’s alright. I wish we had become a couple sooner. But now that we are, I’m very happy.” She smiled. “I know you’ll be too.”

“No, he wouldn’t want me. I’m useful, that’s it.”

“I doubt that. He wouldn’t be here caring for you if that were all he saw in you.” Mash patted his leg. “I understand. Sometimes I don’t think much of myself either.”

“How do you cope with that?”

“I simply focus on things I like,” Mash said, “about myself. That I like, that no one else tells me. Maybe you should try.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Arash sighed. “You know, everyone tells me that they think the pharaoh is interested in me, but that doesn’t make sense. If he was, wouldn’t he have said something by now? The man doesn’t exactly keep his feelings or opinions to himself.”

“Perhaps for the same reason you haven’t,” Mash said, “because he does not see that his affection is reciprocated. Perhaps you need to make the first move.”

“I...”

The door slowly creaked open. “We’re back!” Ritsuka said, arms brimming with movies. Ozymandias stood above him, towering over the Chaldean master’s smaller frame. He carried nothing, waiting with hands on his hips for Ritsuak to move so he could reenter the room. “I know sitting around watching stuff on TV isn’t as exciting as training or fighting, but at least you can switch it up a little!”

“Thank you, Master," Arash said, bowing his head slightly.

“No problem, I even found a couple for Mash and me to watch together." Ritsuka's bright blue eyes drifted over to his girlfriend. She blushed and adjusted her glasses. The Master moved out of the way and let the pharaoh back in. "If there's nothing else I can do for you..."

“No, thank you, Master. I wouldn't want to be more of a burden than I have to be."

“You’re not a burden, not at all!” Master reassured him. Arash wasn’t so sure, but he accepted the assertion regardless.

“I also cannot think of anything else we’ll be needing,” Ozymandias said, flopping onto his bed, the thin mattress creaking under his weight. “I dismiss you, Master. You may go about your day.”

Master didn’t miss a beat. “Of course! See you two later. Coming, Mash?”

“Think about what I said," she whispered, standing up and following Ritsuka from the room. Arash frowned. He was already thinking about it. But how did you make the first move on a king?

Ozymandias stretched out on the bed, giving Arash full view of the tight planes of his stomach. His half shirt was riding up ever so slightly, one of his dusky nipples poking out from under the dark material. He reached out and snagged his coffee from the side table, Arash unable to look away from the bobbing of his Adam's apple. “Ah, this is delicious. You certainly have skill in the realm of coffee.”

“Oh, uh, thank you.” Arash sputtered. “I drink it enough, I should be good at it by now!”

“Do not dismiss your natural skills," the pharaoh chided. "There is a reason your life became a legend, and a reason you have come to the throne of heroes."

“I just practice a lot and try whatever I think will work. It’s all good luck.” Arash sipped his coffee.

Ozymandias glared at him. The heat in his gaze was frightening. The other man’s amber eyes practically sparked with rage. He set the mug down. “Your majesty? Ozymandias?”

“Do. Not. Speak. That. Way.” The other man ground out.

“It’s the truth,” Arash pleaded weakly, cowering under the intensity of his gaze.

“I have tolerated this long too long," Ozymandias grumbled, before standing from the bed, looming over Arash. While it was clear that the action was designed to intimidate, it backfired dramatically. The archer tried to hide his salivating at being eye level with his crush's lower stomach, and being given an uninterrupted view of his lower abs and his hipbones. "I," boomed the pharaoh, "the Sun King, the descendant of Ra, Lord of Egypt, the greatest Pharaoh of all time, view you as a great warrior! You, Arash of Persia, are steadfast, talented, and handsome! I would gladly have you as a general in my kingdom. If you do not cease speaking ill of yourself, I will be forced to deliver a punishment most painful!"

Arash looked to the floor. His companion was clearly deluded. He'd seen the archer at his best and had let those few moments of greatness cloud his judgment. "Your highness, I apologize, but I don't see what you see."

“I hate it when Iskandar is right," Ozymandias muttered. Arash heard the rustling of clothes and looked up. His eyes instantly widened. The pharaoh had divested himself of his shirt and was working on removing his bottoms, struggling with removing the golden adornments and hanging blue fabric over his pants.

“What are you doing?!”

The pharaoh finally removed part of his bottoms and simply dropped his pants, finally standing before Arash, completely nude, panting with exertion. “Is it not obvious?”

“No?” Arash squeaked, unsure where to look or put his hands. He decided to solve both problems by covering his eyes with his hands.

Ozymandias gently grabbed his wrists, pulling them away so Arash could look at him. He was kneeling in front of the archer, his warm golden eyes staring into deep brown. He looked hesitant and as nervous as Arash had ever seen him. "I...I am attracted to you. I admire you. My body is yours."

“What if I want your heart?” Arash blurted, instantly regretting it. _That is the sappiest thing you could have possibly said, idiot!_ He thought, wishing he could facepalm but not wanting to break the grip on his wrists and lose the skin contact with his crush.

The pharaoh looked shocked for a moment, then smiled. “Then you shall have it.” He leaned forward and pressed their lips together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note the rating change. It will be going up again next chapter... ;)
> 
> I don't know why, but the idea of all these heroes of myths and legends sitting around watching TV or playing cards or doing normal people things when they're not assisting Master in repairing humanity just amuses me to no end.
> 
> Half the fun of Fate GO is getting to be insolent and bossy to all these famous heroes, so I tried to capture that here. 
> 
> Thank you for the comments, as always. I've been having trouble lately with publishing my original work so it means so, so much that someone, somewhere, likes this silly little fic. Much love. :)
> 
> My Tumblr: https://inkyblacc.tumblr.com/
> 
> Fic Soundtrack: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLRLIOS3zhRzL-mmhnhmrEuogXtncPoDMD or on Spotify at https://open.spotify.com/playlist/13r76VANCa2WCryboatiqc?si=fGiR0EPhTd6CtOfi1Adtdw


	7. Keep me hanging on so contagiously

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arash and Ozymandias finally make their feelings known loud and clear. And then they have sex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The slow burn finally ignites. Rating raised to E

**Seven.**

Arash was one of the most infuriating people Ozymandias had ever met. Who would dare tell him that his opinion was incorrect!? Who would cover their eyes at the sight of his glorious body?! Who would dare demand his heart when they already had it?!

Still, the way Arash melted into his kiss was so gratifying. The pharaoh could not remember any prior kisses that compared to Arash's lips on his own. The archer's eyes fluttered shut and he moaned against his mouth, burying his hands in his hair. Ozymandias already felt stirring in his loins, and they had only just begun. He put his hand on Arash's chest and pushed him back onto the bed, crawling on top of him and covering his body with his own. He pressed himself into the archer, finally feeling the hard muscle he'd been admiring since the moment they met. His skin was chafing against Arash's clothes, but undressing the archer had to be his choice.

Arash pulled away, looking up at Ozymandias, his pupils so wide his eyes almost looked black. “Is this real? Am I dreaming?”

“No,” the king said, leaning forward and nibbling on Arash’s ears. “This is reality.”

“It can’t be,” Arash panted, “it can’t be. There’s no way you’d want me back.”

Want him....back? “You feel the same?”

Arash laughed and pressed against him, allowing Ozymandias to feel the erection trapped in his lover’s pants against him. “Does this answer the question? Was ‘what if I want your heart’ not clear?”

“I admit, I was surprised. Most would be satisfied with the opportunity to touch my glorious body.”

“I don’t do one-night stands, especially not with you. I want to be with you in all things. I want to make love, I want to eat meals together, and watch movies together, and train together, and hold hands when we walk through the hallways.” Arash looked away, his face blushing red.

Ozymandias kissed his red cheeks. “I want that. I want you.” His hands found the hem of Arash’s shirt. He hoped that the archer couldn’t tell how much they were shaking. “Can I see more of you? Please?”

The pharaoh could not remember the last time he'd said please, but he would have to say it more often if Arash responded like this. The archer nodded and tried to sit up, Ozymandias taking the cue and getting off his partner so he could undress. Arash stripped without much fanfare, his clothes ripping under the force of his desperate attempt to get naked faster. The more skin was revealed, the more Ozymandias felt like his heart would burst. The glimpses of sun-kissed skin he'd been privy to could not compare to what he was seeing now. Every inch of the archer was tanned and toned, with a faint dusting of dark hair scattered around his body. The pharaoh was the most pleased with what hung between his lover's legs. He did not understand where the self-doubt was coming from. Most men would be very confident if they could boast of being that size.

Arash stood before him, shuffling nervously from foot to foot. “You’re staring.”

“You’re amazing.” Ozymandias smiled. “Come here. Let me show you.”

Arash laid back down on the bed. Ozymandias climbed on after him, laying on his side and snagging the archer’s lips in another kiss. He pulled Arash to him with his legs, pressing his erection into Arash’s thigh. Arash wrapped his arms around his shoulders, just as responsive to this kiss as the last. His hands drifted down Arash’s body, wrapping around his long heavy cock. The archer gasped into the kiss, digging his hands into Ozymandias’s shoulders. “Oh my god. That’s...how are your hands so warm?”

“I am the king of the sun, dearest one. All of me radiates the warmth of the heavens." He leaned forward to mouth at Arash's neck. "And all of you radiate masculine beauty."

“I don’t...”

Ozymandias dug his teeth into his neck. “Do you dare disagree with me, as I writhe atop you? Do you not feel my erection against your thigh?”

Arash moved his thigh hesitantly, sending a shiver of pleasure up the pharaoh’s spine. “I do,” the archer purred, continuing to rock his leg against his lover. “It’s warm too.”

“It would not be there if you weren’t stunning. Oh, my love, you are like the stars themselves.” Ozymandias swiped his thumb over the head of Arash’s cock and he jumped, burying his face in the rider’s neck. “Why do you hide your face from me? Let me see your loveliness. I’ve waited too long for this.”

“Too long?” Arash asked, lifting his head.

“Since I met you in Camelot. Gods, you were so full of life, and ability, and handsomeness. How could I not feel pulled towards you?” Ozymandias stroked his hair, resting his lips above Arash’s, not quite touching. “And now I have you at my mercy. Tell me, great hero of Persia. What do you want me to do to you?”

“Ozymandias,” Arash panted.

Ozymandias lifted a finger to Arash’s lips. “Call me Ramses when we’re together like this. I want to hear my name on your lips as you cum.” Arash’s hips stuttered beneath him, rewarding the pharaoh. “Now, my darling. My most previous. What do you want me to do to you?”

Arash’s breath hitched. “Whatever you desire, my king. My Ramses. ”

Ozymandias smirked against his lips, before pressing down into a searing kiss. “Dangerous words, my treasure.”

“I’m not afraid of a little danger,” Arash said, grinning up at him. “I trust you completely.”

“Then I will reward you for your trust in me." The pharaoh nuzzled his nose into Arash's neck before biting down, relishing in the strangled gasp it drew. His pleasure was rising with every little sound, and he craved touch. In most of his encounters, he was the one whose pleasure mattered most. However, with his precious archer, he wanted to see his lover writhe in pleasure more than he wanted his own release. He slid down Arash's body, pausing above his cock, golden eyes flicking up to meet deep brown. He smiled and took Arash's cock into his mouth, instantly swallowing him to the hilt.

***

Arash screamed as the hot wet walls of Ramses’s mouth closed around him. He bit his fist to cover similar sounds that he knew were coming, trying to force his hips not to immediately buck up. The pharaoh reached up and tugged his wrist until he let his hand flop out of his mouth. Ozymandias shook his head slightly, cheeks still hollow around his length. Arash understood immediately. He wanted to hear the sounds he was making, that the pharaoh was drawing from his lips. His eyes fluttered shut and he sunk back into his bed. Ozymandias spread his hands over his hips, pinning him down, starting to move his mouth up and down as he alternated caressing his cock with his tongue and sucking as hard as he could. Arash let out another drawn-out, high pitched wail, squirming and writhing as pleasure piloted his body. Nothing had ever felt like this. Nothing had ever felt this good.

All too soon Ozymandias pulled off. Arash whined, his eyes falling open as his lover climbed back over him, resuming the earlier easy slide against each other. Arash looked up into Ozymandias's teasing eyes, glinting with mischief, pleading for more. "I do not want you to come apart too early. I have such plans for you, my treasure." Arash grabbed the back of the pharaoh's head and pulled him down for a kiss. His lover's eyes opened wide with shock, but he soon relaxed into the kiss, his warm hands running up and down his body, pinching and rubbing and squeezing. With each touch, Arash moaned. "Oh yes, you are my treasure indeed, aren't you? So beautiful, so responsive, such a gift."

Arash blushed, turning his head away for a moment before it was wrenched back into place with two of his lover's strong fingers. He looked into the pharaoh's eyes and saw such warmth that he nearly melted. He'd expected the same look of mischief he'd seen before, or to see his pupils blown wide with lust, but what he saw was genuine affection. The look on his face said there was nowhere else he'd rather be. Arash kissed him slowly, trying to pour some of his feelings into the kiss. "You're the real gift, my pharaoh."

Ozymandias smiled softly and stroked Arash's hair. "Then perhaps I should give you what you need." He stood and walked to the closet (that the pharaoh had pretty much taken over) and started digging around in one of his pockets. Arash watched with curiosity, wondering what his lover was looking for. Finally, Ozymandias pulled out a crystal glass bottle with a strange...liquid inside. It wasn't quite water, it wasn't quite solid...the pharaoh carried it to the bed and poured some out on his fingers. Then it finally dawned on Arash. Lube.

“Did you...did you bring that with you anticipating this?” Arash asked as Ozymandias sat on the bed, walking his hand down Arash’s chest, a pleasant warming sensation blooming from where his slick fingers met sweating skin.

“A man can dream, can he not?" Ozymandias teased. "If nothing else, I was going to attempt to give you a massage, to soothe your restless musicales." He moved so he was lying beside the archer, stroking his hipbones, gently brushing over the head of his cock. "Do you want me inside you, my treasure? Or do you want to be inside me? If you do not, I know of other things we can do together."

Arash shivered. “Yes, please. I want you inside me. I want you to be my first.”

Ozymandias stilled. “What do you mean?”

“No man has ever been inside me before,” Arash clarified, “and it would be my honour for you to be my first.”

Ozymandias’s hands slipped under Arash’s testicles, resting at his hole. “I’ll be gentle, my treasure. I’ll give you a first that you’ll never forget.” He gently slid his index finger inside, slowly, letting Arash adjust to the intrusion. The archer was grateful for the warming lubricant. The penetration didn’t feel necessarily good, but the warming relaxed his muscles and allowed him to take the digit deeper. He could feel it through every nerve, his entire body on fire from the inside out from the mere knowledge that he was doing this with the great pharaoh. He knew there was a spot inside him that the pharaoh was looking for, he just needed to be patient and try to relax. Ozymandias crooked his finger against his walls and pleasure shot through Arash, his slightly wilted cock jumping and leaking. His lover laughed softly, stroking that spot again. “Hold still, my love. I cannot properly prepare you when you writhe like that.”

Arash tried to still himself, settling for arching his hips into the touch rather than bucking. “It feels so good, Ramses,” he panted. “I need more.”

“Then you shall have it.” Ozymandias slid two fingers into the tight passage, scissoring them as he worked his way up. This was an even less pleasurable sensation, but one Arash knew was necessary. He’d seen the pharaoh nude. He knew he’d need good stretching to take his cock. Ozymandias brushed against his prostate again, pulling out and pushing back in rhythmically. Arash let his hips rise and fall with him, seeking more pleasure. “I’m going to put in a third, and then...I cannot wait much longer than that. I must take you. Gods, these sounds, your face, your body...I need to be buried in you.”

Arash keened. Words tumbled from his mouth, his mind too lost to pleasure to regulate itself. “Yes, oh gods, please. I need you so badly. I need you in me.”

Ozymandias slicked up a third finger and pushed it in without much fanfare, spreading his digits and moving them in and out. The stretch was starting to get more comfortable, the opposite of what Arash had been expecting. Perhaps it was the lube, perhaps it was his servant body, or perhaps he was relaxing and enjoying the touches so much that they just felt so easy. All too soon, Ozymandias withdrew his hand.

“I’m going to enter you now,” he said, stroking Arash’s cheek.

“Do you want me to turn over?”

“No. I want to see your face as I sink into you.” Ozymandias said, grinning dozily. Arash was relieved to see that he wasn’t the only one affected by their lovemaking. “It’s such a lovely face.”

Arash locked his ankles around Ozymandias’s lower back. “Please. Don’t tease me.”

“Of course, my love.” Ozymandias lined himself up with Arash’s quivering hole and pushed in, slowly and gently, his head thrown back already. It burned, a little, Arash noted, the careful work done with fingers not quite enough to open him up completely. It felt good regardless. He still had to take deep breaths and will himself to adjust as Ozymandias buried himself to the hilt. His lover hadn’t been lying about every part of his body being warm. Even without the lubricant, his cock was almost burning hot. The pharaoh let out a deep moan when he was all the way inside, bending forward to nuzzle at Arash’s neck. “You feel incredible, my treasure. You’re so tight around me, so warm, so wet. How do you feel?”

“Good," Arash said, biting at Ozymandias's ear. "Amazing. I feel so full."

“I’m going to move now. I’m going to make you feel even better.” Ozymandias pulled out almost completely, just leaving the bulbous tip in. Arash’s hole fluttered against the emptiness before Ozymandias slammed back in, striking his prostate. Arash’s back arched and he pulled Ozymandias closer with his heels.

“Yes,” he cried out, “yes!”

Ozymandias smiled, thrusting in and out, getting deeper and deeper each time. Arash pushed his hips down, meeting him thrust for thrust. He needed more friction, needed more pressure on his prostate, needed to make Ozymandias feel as good as he was feeling. The way the pharaoh’s thrusts became less controlled and more erratic seemed to say that he was feeling just as good, as well as the way his kisses became sloppier, missing Arash’s lips completely, mouthing at his face and neck instead. The pharaoh was quieter than he thought he would be, only grunting and whispering sweet nothings in his ears. His thick hands dug into his hips, and Arash was sure he’d have bruises there to remind him about their encounter all week.

Arash bit Ozymandias’s lip and wrapped his hands in his hair. “So good, my king. My Ramses. My lord. You’re incredible.”

Ozymandias groaned. “I thank you, my treasure. You feel exquisite. I’m not going to last long. How embarrassing. But you’re...the way you thrust against me, the way you sound...you’re wonderful.” Ozymandias reached down to palm at Arash’s cock. “May I touch you here? I want to see you cum.”

Arash nodded. “I wanted to cum on just your cock, but if you insist...”

“It is purely selfish. I quite like your cock,” Ozymandias said, wrapping his hand around Arash’s cock and taking long drags up and down, making sure each and every inch of Arash’s dick was touched. “It’s so long, and lovely shaped. I hope,” he said, twisting his wrist, “that I will be able to ride this in the future.”

Arash's vision went white as he came, letting out a long, drawn-out wail, splashing both of their chests and abdomens with sticky white cum. Ozymandias followed soon after, and Arash felt a burst of warmth as Ozymandias thrust uncontrollably. The pharaoh finally stilled, flopping forward and covering Arash's body with his own. "I love you," he whispered into Arash's ear. "I love you."

“I love you too, Ramses,” Arash said, kissing Ozymandias on the cheek. “I love you too.”

Ozymandias pulled out completely, Arash shivering as cum and lube dripped onto his shaking thighs. The pharaoh kissed his forehead and stroked Arash’s hair, standing and disappearing into the bathroom. He emerged with a towel and set about wiping Arash clean, kissing his thighs as he did. “Do you mean what you said?” Ozymandias asked, returning to his position above Arash, looking down at him.

“Yeah,” Arash said, “I do. Did you?”

Ozymandias nodded. "I never say things that I do not mean. I've loved you since Camelot. I would go to the ends of the earth for you, give up all of my treasure and my prize chariot if only to make you happy."

“Nah," Arash said, smiling, looking up at Ozymandias. Despite the aching in his muscles and rear, he felt incredible. He felt so warm and full of love. He felt like his heart would burst. "I don't need all that to be happy. All I need are warm days, good food and drinks, and you."

Ozymandias rolled to his side and tugged Arash into his chest, snuggling into his hair. “I will give you that, my love. I will give you all of that and more.”

“Where do we go from here?” Arash asked. It was a conversation that needed to happen.

“You are my consort now,” Ozymandias said, matter-of-factually. “I suppose Mash and Master would call us boyfriends, but semantics matter not. You are mine, and I am yours.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh gosh 
> 
> We on fire now. 
> 
> I always feel a little awkward writing and putting these kinds of scenes up. There's a fine line between realistic depictions of sex and idealized fiction versions for escapism. So I try to do a bit of both. Hopefully, this was worth the wait!
> 
> *Also*: This fic is on hiatus after this chapter for a few weeks. I thank everyone who's commented and left kudos, it means so much and I really appreciate it, but I need a short break. I'll probably update with some vignettes here and there (explaining the Gilgamesh incident, for one) but the main story is on hold for now. Thank you for your patience, and please accept this scene of tender love-making as my apology. 
> 
> My Tumblr: https://inkyblacc.tumblr.com/
> 
> Fic Soundtrack: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLRLIOS3zhRzL-mmhnhmrEuogXtncPoDMD or on Spotify at https://open.spotify.com/playlist/13r76VANCa2WCryboatiqc?si=fGiR0EPhTd6CtOfi1Adtdw


	8. Interlude One: Arash and Mordred Prank a King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a brief interlude taking place before the events of the story unfold, Arash assists his friend Mordred in "therapeutic pranking" and attracts the attention of one Ozymandias.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little bit of humour during this trying time. It's nothing serious (ish), just an answer to a commenter who was curious about the friendship between Mordred and Arash. Enjoy!
> 
> Beware corny jokes and silly humour.

**Interlude One.**

Arash looked down at his pants, his good pants, and the whipped cream and chocolate sauce dripping down them, and wondered if he needed to be a little more assertive in the future. He glanced up and saw two of Chaldea’s most powerful sabres duking it out and probably destroying the cafeteria, and decided that he definitely, definitely needed to be more assertive.

He looked around, hoping to find something he could use to clean off. Pretty much everyone, with the exception of him, the brawlers and Gilgamesh, who seemed determined to enjoy his lunch regardless of the chaos around him, was occupied with the food fight. He glanced at the closest table. Emiya gave him a sympathetic look and motioned for him to duck and join him, but that would get the mess on his shirt as well and he wasn’t really into that.

Arash considered it, however, when Ozymandias walked in, doing it anyway. His ‘little’ crush was quickly becoming less little and more gigantic. He turned three shades of red when he locked eyes with the pharaoh, and noticed the pharaoh's eyes drift down his body. The other man turned away, and Arash had never been so thankful for that. Then, he noticed him approaching again, this time with a wet cloth. Ozymandias seemed unperturbed by the chaos around him, effortlessly dodging sword beams and thrown chairs. He handed Arash the cloth without a word, giving him a kind smile. Well, far be it from Arash to look a gift horse in the mouth. He grabbed the cloth and started rubbing down, hoping it would be enough to save him from a sticky mess later.

“Arash.” Ozymandias’s voice rang out over the chaos. Arash turned to him. The pharaoh had his hands on his hips and was surveying the situation with the disdain a parent would looking out on their children having a fight over toys. “What is going on here? And why are you covered in sweetened dairy products?”

Arash sighed. “It’s a long story.”

#

Mordred groaned, laying their cards out across the table. “My hand is shit. You win, archer.”

Arash smiled. “Oh, my sweet, sweet Mordred.” He laid his cards out and Mordred cursed loudly, prompting a glare from Boudica, Jack and Nursery Rhyme at a nearby table. “Mine were too.” Arash smiled evilly as he pulled the chips towards him. He’d expected the knight of treachery to have a better poker face, but he wasn’t complaining. He wasn’t used to winning this much. He’d have to play Mordred more often. Their usual gang was out with Master, fighting ghosts and dragons, but Mordred insisted on continuing the tradition anyway.

Mordred laid their head on the table and sighed. “It just ain’t my day, bud.”

“What’s the matter?” Arash asked, his winner’s bravado gone.

“Master took both Father and me out on a supply run, but Father wouldn’t even look at me. And I was awesome! I got my noble phantasm out early and killed all the enemies at once. Even the archers. No offence.”

“None taken.”

“But nope, Father didn’t say a goddamn word. Just kept staring at the empty battlefield. I don’t get it, Rashy. I’m tryin’ to show Father what I can do, but she doesn’t care at all.” Mordred whined, lifting their head up to chug their booze. “It’s stupid. I’m twice the knight Father was at my age. Do you think he’s jealous?”

Arash shrugged. “I don’t know your father that well, Mords. I couldn’t say one way or the other.”

“I hate this.” Mordred moaned. “Why do I care so much anyway? It’s not like Father’s ever given two shits.”

Arash gave Boudica an apologetic look. “You know, I wonder the same thing.” Mordred’s slightly red eyes met his. “You’re an incredible swordsman. You’re powerful, you’re funny, and you’re a surprisingly good friend. You have so much to offer other than being Artoria's son. Maybe you should start caring more about living a life you can be proud of!”

Mordred gave him a sweet, genuine smile. They tilted their drink back and finished it. “You’re right! Screw my father! I don’t have nothing to prove to ‘er!”

“Yeah!” Arash agreed, happy his friend felt better.

“And I’m going to get her back for treating me like a turd on his shoe!”

“...what?”

“Yeah, we’re going to make her pay! We’re going to get her real good!” Mordred cheered, slamming their fist down on the table, sending chips and cards everywhere. Arash’s face dropped as his good deck soared through the air, covering their immediate area with cards. Arash noticed that Boudica and the kids had moved a few tables over. That was probably smart. “Come on, Rashy! I have an idea that’s going to really, really get him.”

Arash tried to protest, and tell Mordred that whatever they were planning to do would probably upset Master. He wanted to tell Mordred that he didn’t want to get dragged into a family squabble. But he didn’t. Mordred grabbed him by the arm and pulled him out of the room, leaving his cards on the floor and a mess in the cafeteria. He hoped that some kind soul came by and picked up his cards. They had some very nice pictures of puppies on the back, and he knew they’d make someone very happy.

#

“Where the hell is he?” Mordred huffed, hiding behind a well-placed garbage can in front of her father’s bedroom door. The king of knights had her own room, which Arash was secretly very jealous of. Arash could only suppose it was because Iri decided to move out of her room and in with Emiya’s assassin father, but that was neither here nor there. The bucket placed precariously above the door could probably fall at a slight breeze, and they’d be lucky if the bucket stayed up long enough to fall on Arturia’s head.

“I don’t know your father’s routine!” Arash retorted. He could leave, he told himself. He could go back to his room, and he could watch TV and pretend he had nothing to do with any of this. But one look at Mordred’s pained face kept him there. He knew that the knight of treachery was in pain and that they just wanted someone to support them. Arash sighed. “We could try something more direct.”

“I guess,” Mordred muttered, standing up. “Oh, shit, here he comes!”

King Arthur was walking down the hallway towards her room, humming a jaunty tune to herself as she walked. The king of knights looked like she was in a good mood, and that made Arash feel worse about the whole situation. The saber stopped in front of her slightly ajar door and looked up.

“How strange,” she said, “I certainly don’t remember leaving this open. Perhaps Iri came back for her things.” The king frowned. “Yes, that is probably it. I had hoped I could be there when she did, but...”

Arash felt his heart break a little, watching the usually confident king look sadly at a door. Mordred growled beside him. “Well, we can’t do it now.”

“Why?” Arash asked, instantly regretting it. Hopefully, it didn’t make Mordred reconsider.

“It’s not fun to kick people when they’re down. It’s way more fun to ruin their good mood!”

The answer...it shouldn’t have surprised him. At all. “What do you do about the bucket, then?”

“Oh, shit.” Mordred looked at the bucket, then to Arash. “Shoot it down.”

“What?”

“Shoot it off the door. I don’t care if it lands on the floor and makes a big mess. I don’t care if it makes the biggest mess! Get it gone!”

“Alright! Fine! You don’t have to shout at me,” Arash protested, nocking his bow. He aimed carefully, watching both the bucket and Artoria. The King of Knights was calling into the room, asking if Iri was still in there. Arash took a deep breath, steadied his nerves, and shot down the bucket.

Luckily for him, it fell in the opposite direction of the door, out of Arturia’s view. Unluckily for him, the pharaoh Ozymandias was walking past the door just as the bucket sailed through the air, coating his clothes with water-laden heavily with food dye and shaving cream. Arash gasped and dropped his bow, the clattering even louder than Ozymandias’s cursing and Arturia’s questions as to what had happened. Both rulers turned to look, Ozymandias’s rage-filled expression surprisingly vanishing and Artoria’s curiosity apparent on her face. For a few moments, no one said a word.

Mordred jumped up, curiosity getting the better of them. Then Artoria’s expression turned angry, her eyes narrowing and her jaw tensing. Now Ozymandias was nodding. He was so smart, Arash noted with a flutter in his heart. He’d probably figured out who was truly responsible for the state of his fancy clothing. Mordred didn’t acknowledge either king. They grabbed Arash by the collar, yelled “CHEESE IT!” at the top of their lungs and dragged him down the hall, his feet floating above the ground as Mordred ran from their father’s shouts of anger and demands to return.

#

“This is a terrible idea.” Arash huffed, crossing his arms. “The bucket on the door wasn’t our best, but it was better than this.”

“Shut up, Rash.” Mordred glared at him. “We’ll get this done, I’ll get my angst out, and we’ll be back to playing cards in the cafeteria in no time. You’ll see.” Mordred said, the bottle of “lotion” slipping out of their hands. “Shit. Why is this so slippery?”

“Isn’t that the point?” Arash asked, checking the door again. He knew that Artoria trained for hours on Thursday because it was also the day he trained. At both morning AND night, for some more well-rounded exercise. Artoria was there in the morning, and she was still there at night. Rationally, he knew she’d be starting her weight circuit now (in full armour too) and would be loudly grunting and disrupting everyone else in the gym, but irrationally, he could picture Artoria stomping through the halls, still grunting, on the way back to her room...he shook his head. Mordred was right. The sooner they finished, the sooner they could leave. “I mean, it’s lu--”

“Lotion!” Mordred insisted. “Iskandar told me it was lotion!”

_Suuuuure he did._ Arash thought. Wait...why would the Greek conqueror have that? What was he doing with it? He hadn’t heard any rumours, but he was the roommate of Ozymandias, so that would mean... “Oh, did he?”

“Well...not exactly. He told Moriarty it was lotion. I overheard them, and it looked really slippery, so I kind of...”

“You stole it.” Arash face-palmed. “Oh my god. I can’t believe that you did that. Actually, I can believe that you did that.” Panic started to course through his veins. Iskandar would laugh at his “lotion” being used for such purposes, but Moriarty? The old man was an unknown. Of course, the biggest unknown was why he had it in the first place, but that was neither here nor there. They needed to leave before he figured out he’d been robbed. “Why wouldn’t you tell me?”

“I’m the knight of treachery, and you didn’t expect me to lie to you?”

“No, because we’re friends!” Arash protested, crossing his arms, starting to pace the room.

“...oh,” Mordred said sadly. “I, uh, I’ve never really had a lot of...friends.”

Arash groaned. He couldn’t leave now, not without Mordred. “Okay, fine. Just put the lotion on the handle of the blade and let’s get out of here.”

Mordred nodded and tried to get the lid off, the bottle dropping to the floor. They caught the bottle before it rolled under a dresser, and poured some out onto a facecloth. “It’s really nice, isn’t it?”

“Huh?”

“Excalibur,” Mordred said admiringly. “It’s a really cool sword, isn’t it?”

“I guess it is,” Arash said, looking over the legendary blade.

“I always hoped...father would leave it for me, to carry on her legacy. But...” Mordred looked to the floor sadly, pouring more “lotion” on the facecloth and giving the handle another coat. “There. That should be good.” Mordred stood up and brushed off the excess lube on their bare legs, putting the cloth in their back pocket. “Let’s head out before we’re caught.” Arash followed her out of the room and into the hallway, locking the door behind them.

“How do you feel?” Arash asked when they were sufficiently away from the room.

Mordred shrugged. “I don’t know. I thought I’d feel better. But I guess I just feel...like I didn’t accomplish anything. I’m still mad. But,” Mordred said, perking up, “I wish I could see the look on Father’s face! Oh man, it’s gonna be good!”  
  


“Heh, probably,” Arash said, slipping his hands in his pockets. Hopefully, this prank thing was done for good, now that Mordred knew it accomplished nothing.

#

Arash was an optimistic man. He usually looked for the best in any situation, no matter how absurd or difficult it was. He’d really, really been optimistic about Mordred losing their interest in pranking their father. He’d been optimistic that he could go back to his peaceful life of training, cards, and staying out of family issues. Becoming a servant of Chaldea was testing his world view in the worst ways possible.

“I was going to eat that.” Arash protested as Mordred stole his pie from under his fork. Emiya only made pie on special occasions, and Arash got to the cafeteria early to snag a coveted slice.

“Emiya was out of pie when I went up there,” Mordred complained. “And he wouldn’t give me a pie plate full of whipped cream, either. He’s no freaking fun.”

“I know, right?” Arash said, Mordred completely missing the sarcasm. He reached out and tugged his plate back. “Can I please have my pie back? Wouldn’t a tomato be fine? What about your soup?”

“What? No! This is beef noodle. And a tomato...not a bad idea, but it might not squish.” Mordred took the pie back, giving Arash the ‘puppy-dog eyes’ (which looked more deranged coyote then puppy dog). “Please? This is the last prank. I got to thinkin’...maybe I didn’t feel good after because I didn’t get to see Father react! I didn’t get to see father pick up the sword, and the bucket thing was a bust. After this, I’ll be done, I promise. I just want to see Father get mad.”

“You’re getting me two slices next time,” Arash said, sighing. “Make it quick, and I was never here.”

“Got it,” Mordred said, slamming their hand on the table. Arash winced as Mordred started sneaking over to their father’s seat. The King of Knights had gone to wash her hands and was just exiting the bathroom. Mordred quickly dropped the pie on her chair, sank to the floor, and belly-crawled back to their previous table. Where Arash was still sitting.

“What happened to ‘I was never here!’?” Arash protested.

“Father will go easier on me if I’m with a bystander,” Mordred whispered, still looking at Artoria, walking across the room. “Here she comes!”

Arash watched in horror as Artoria moved to sit, sliding the long skirt of her battle dress under her, laughing with her tablemates as she sat down to enjoy her own pie, her bum slowly lowering onto the soft and delicious dessert below. That could have been in his mouth, at this very moment, but was now being used to exact a childish form of revenge. Arash couldn’t look.

He didn’t need to. As soon as Artoria sat down, she let out a scream that alerted everyone to the food-crime that had just occurred, and everyone was silent. Except for Gilgamesh and Mordred, who were laughing hysterically.

Arash hoped that maybe she’d think Gilgamesh did it, but he knew in his heart that Gilgamesh would steal it and eat it in front of her, and therefore was not a suspect. Mordred, unfortunately, was. Arash tried to hide behind his hands, wishing that an earthquake would swallow him whole. Fortunately, Artoria’s attention was not on him. It was solely focused on the knight of treachery, who was still laughing.

“You have my attention now,” Artoria said, her voice as cold and deadly as her famous sword. “What. Is. It.”

“What’s what? Looks like you need to watch where you sit.” Mordred said, smirking up at their father.

“I know you put the pie there. And I know that you were outside my room yelling about dairy products. And I know you put lubricant on my sword.”

Across the cafeteria, Moriarty cried out, “So that’s where it went!”

Artoria continued. “What I don’t understand is why.”

“Why? WHY?!” Mordred stood up, shaking the table with the force of her gangly legs knocking into it. They marched over to Artoria, getting right into her personal space, growling an inch away from Artoria’s nose. “Because this is what it takes for you to acknowledge me! Fucking with your stuff! I try to talk to you like a person, and you ignore me! I try to impress you with my skills, and you ignore that too! So yeah! I tried to dump a bucket of random crap on your head, I lubed your sword, and I made you sit in a pie. What are you going to do about it?”

Artoria looked at Mordred, then to the soup. Arash tried to escape the table but found his legs unwilling to move. As if in slow motion, Artoria grabbed Mordred by the ponytail and shoved their face into their lukewarm beef noodle soup.

The rest was all a blur. One moment, Mordred had noodles and beef chunks running down their cheeks, and the next they’d charged Artoria, faked left, grabbed their father’s pie, and thrown it at Artoria. Mordred missed, the pie hitting Arash directly in the crotch. Artoria let out a battle cry and flipped a table, and the fight was on. Soon, there was food everywhere, flying through the air. Gilgamesh continued to laugh hysterically. Arash had only heard the King of Heroes laugh like that when he saw Jack trip down the stairs.

That was what he recounted to the pharaoh who'd so kindly offered him help. Ozymandias listened to his tale, watching as Arash wiped dessert off his crotch. “You are a true and loyal friend. I would expect nothing less.”

Arash blushed. “Thanks.”

“Though I think you should be more cautious about who you chose to spend time with.” The pharaoh said. “It is not the knight of treachery who shall be washing your pants. It shall be you.”

“Yeah,” Arash sighed, “I know.”

“I will accompany you to your room.” Ozymandias left no room for argument. “So that you can change your clothing safely.”

“I’d like that. You don’t have to do that, but I appreciate it.” Arash smiled widely, his big brown eyes meeting the pharaoh's amber ones. The pharaoh nodded, a matching smile on his face. _I must be crazy,_ Arash thought, _but...is he blushing?_

As the two prepared to leave, they heard Gilgamesh let out a scream of fury. “Don’t turn around,” Ozymandias warned. “Nothing good is about to occur.”

Arash still turned around. The King of Heroes was standing, with what looked like strawberry jam dripping down his silky white shirt. A golden glow surrounded him, the gates of Babylon preparing to unleash hell upon the cafeteria.

“Everyone shut up!” Emiya yelled, storming out of the kitchen, still wearing his apron and hair net. “Or pie day is officially cancelled!”

“Damn faker! They’ve ruined my shirt!” Gilgamesh grabbed one of his swords. “They must die!”

“Oh, for the love of...if you put that away right now, you can have the piece of pie I was saving for myself. Happy, oh great and mighty king?”

The golden glow vanished. “A worthy trade,” Gilgamesh muttered as he sat down.

Arash let out a wheeze of agony. Ozymandias put his hand on his shoulder and led him from the cafeteria.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this silly interlude. I wanted to explore some of the inherent silliness and potential of having all these larger than life historical figures living and working in the same place. 
> 
> Soon, we shall get to the "Gilgamesh Incident". Soon. 
> 
> Don't ask me what Moriarty has fancy lube for. It's better not to question it. 
> 
> I chose to give Mordred "they/them" pronouns because, in the Fate Apocrypha show, they do not want to be called a woman but don't ask to be called a man. So, to be safe, I went with they/them. I went with she/her pronouns for Artoria because, while she's technically Mordred's "father" and a king, she still seems to identify as a woman.


End file.
